


Chesterfield King

by A_Big_Old_Skeleton



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Also Control. Also The Southern Reach. Look inspired by a lot of stuff, F/M, Fully on my bullshit, I'm just mapping my own anxieties onto Wendy because it made sense at the time, Inspired by Kill Six Billion Demons, It started out as light continuity and got out of hand, Light Eldritch horror elements, Now look where we've gotten, Things got real weird hop the fuck on, at times - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-23 15:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Big_Old_Skeleton/pseuds/A_Big_Old_Skeleton
Summary: Wendy helped to save reality once, but compared to being an adult that shit was easy. Maybe what she needs is a new job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy works through some stuff. Dipper helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this sort of turned into a Whole Thing, or at least a Series of Stuff, which is my way of saying that if the first chapter doesn't grab you, you might be more interested in chapters two through however many there are now.
> 
> _I _still like the first chapter, but then again I would, wouldn't I?

Wendy stares at the bottle in her hand like it will give her some kind of answer. She doesn’t know _ why _ this happens to her these days, although she knows deep down this has always been there - this gnawing dissatisfaction with everything about herself. It’s just, she used to have easier distractions for this. She had friends who were _ there _ , within reach, with the sort of lives and lack of responsibilities that allowed for a late night phone call leading to a late night trip to the arcade, or to see a movie, or _ anything _, really. It was a good situation, which is why it barely makes sense that she took the first chance she had to get out of Gravity Falls - to see a bit of the world and ‘find herself,’ or at least see what life was like in a world without quite so many gnomes and other paranormal goings-on. It meant her family got to learn how to do their own cooking and cleaning, and it had given her something she’d wanted forever: complete autonomy. 

It has been nice, she reminds herself, to only have to focus on herself. It was even nicer to be able to bring a boyfriend home and not have to sneak him in the damn house, even though her track record with boyfriends was still a series of minor and major catastrophes, depending on the day. Her record so far had been just over a year, and _ that _ had ended so badly that she’d started to think that maybe she should just stay single forever. Her brothers could worry about continuing the family name, and she could keep her life drama-free for a while. Portland was nice - although every time she saw a Keep Portland Weird sticker or sign or shirt she nearly rolled her eyes out of her head. She knew what _ real _weird was, and Portland didn’t have it (and if not for the occasional nightmare about the bunker, or how the world nearly ended because of an interdimensional dorito didn’t remind her, she might resent the lack of weird).

She still has friends, she reminds herself. The world was built to stay connected - she can always send a message to any of her friends and at least have a conversation as long as it’s not too late, or too early, or they aren’t handling something child-related. Because of _ course _ most of her friends have settled down, because that’s what tends to happen the closer people get to 30. Except, of course, for her. Wendy hasn’t settled down, at least not in the traditional sense. She’s not sure she knows _ how _ . Saving all reality, that was one thing. Figuring out what to do _ after _ reality is saved, and your friends are all growing up and getting married or finding careers - well, they had the journals to tell them what to do about reality. 

_ You’re spiraling _ , she thinks. _ You should be able to recognize this by now. Call someone. See what Tambry’s up to. Or Mabel. _ She pulls her phone out, checks the time. _ Too late _ , she thinks. _ Best not to bother them. _Her beer is empty, so she rinses the bottle out and, after a brief internal debate, opens another. She flips the tv on, pulls up an on-demand copy of _ Rise of the Blood Drinkers of Blood 4: Havana Nights _, and drinks and watches and tries very hard to ignore the gnawing emptiness that’s taken up residence in her chest and in the morning she calls into work and tells them she’s sorry, but she’s come down with the flu. Then she goes back to bed for another few hours and tries not to think about how lost she feels, or how she’s convinced she’s alienated everyone she cares about. When she wakes up again, she heads to a climbing gym and spends hours throwing herself up walls and trails, leaning on the mixture of muscle soreness and adrenaline to restore the guttering flame of her sense of self to something that burns a little brighter.

The next day she goes back to work and smiles and tells her colleagues that no, she feels fine now, it must have just been something she ate, and her routine of work, gym, home lets the week blur and stretch and another month goes by before she thinks to call her Dad and see how things are back home.

“Couldn’t be better!” Her dad says, because he always says that, and she smiles as she hears him stifle a curse as he hits his head on the ceiling for what is probably the billionth time. Her brothers are all doing well, “lumberjacks after my own heart” he says, and Wendy wonders, though she’ll never ask, if she’s let him down by ending up in Portland working in the office of a small alternative weekly and occasionally picking up shifts at a coffee shop to make ends meet. Then the question comes, inevitably.

“How’s things up in Portland?”

Wendy feels a jolt of panic. “Eh, same as ever,” she says, and tries to ignore the way she feels a sob rising in her throat. She swallows it back and adds, “Work’s been busy, I guess. Took on a couple new shifts at the shop for some extra cash, ‘cause I’ve been thinking I’ll take a vacation later this year.”

Manly Dan makes an impressed noise. “Got a destination in mind?”

“Nah, you know me,” Wendy says, the lie coming easily, “I’m not really one for planning. Although I think wherever I head I’ll probably try to swing home for a bit on the way - been a while since I saw you guys.”

“Well, you know you’ve always got a place to stay here.” Her father says, and Wendy feels a wave of gratitude so powerful that her eyes water a little. “And we love having you here.”

“You just miss having someone else do the cooking,” Wendy says, unable to keep the fondness from her voice, “but I appreciate you pretending otherwise.”

Her father’s booming laugh echoes through the apartment, in spite of him coming through a tinny phone speaker. “Well, let me know and we’ll make sure the kitchen’s cleaned up for you.” 

“Of course.” Wendy says, and then sighs. “Speaking of which, I’d better go. I’ve been putting off cleaning the apartment for long enough.”

“Ha! Well, I’ll speak to you again soon, hon! Take care now!”

“You too, Dad.” and then, moved suddenly by something she can’t place, she adds, “Love you.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me!” Manly Dan replies, but Wendy can hear how pleased he is to hear it, and he adds, “Love you too” before hanging up. 

Wendy doesn’t clean the apartment, but she feels a little better anyway. She goes for a walk instead, and being out in the world makes her feel slightly less like she’s turning into a hermit. When she gets back later, she is pleased to discover the fog that’s dogged her recently seems like it’s lifted a bit. She’s not sure how long the feeling will last, so she tries to capitalize on it by firing off a message to Dipper.

_ Hey, sorry I’ve been kind of shitty about keeping in touch lately. Was thinking I would take a vacation down to Gravity Falls later this year - would be nice to see you and Mabel again, don’t you think? _

Her finger hovers over the send button for a second, and then she deletes it and stares at her phone’s screen for a while before setting it down on her desk and feels herself backslide just a bit. A sudden shot of frustration lances through her and she stabs the call button before she’s even thought about what she’s going to say or what time it is or how long it’s been since they’ve done anything but exchange texts.

“Wendy! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dipper sounds surprised and delighted on the other end of the line. 

Wendy shrugs, even though he can’t see it, and says, “I need a reason?”

“No,” Dipper says, after a pause, “I suppose you don’t.”

“Damn right,” she replies, and then adds, “I actually did call for a reason, though. I’m thinking of heading to Gravity Falls for a week later in the year - wondered if you’d be up for a reunion of the ‘remember that one time we saved all of reality’ crew.” She doesn’t add _ the ones who are still alive _, because it goes without saying that the Grunkles won’t be there. 

The enthusiasm on the other end of the line is palpable. “Yeah! Mabel’s been talking about heading back there to touch up the statues for Ford and Stan, so this will give her an excuse. You have a date in mind?”

“Nah, not really. I was talking to my dad earlier about how I’d been thinking of doing a little traveling, and the idea just kinda popped into my head. Figure it’s been years since I saw you guys last, so…”

“God, yeah, when was the last time we all met in person, huh? Think it was Mabel’s wedding.”

Wendy smiles at the memory. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much glitter in one place before.”

“I still can’t believe she got Pacifica to agree to it.” Dipper replies. “I still think she must have lost some kind of a bet.”

“Some mysteries we’re just not meant to know the answers to, I guess.” 

“I’ll be honest, knowing my sister it might not be an answer I _ want _ the answer to.” 

The two laugh and a silence falls that’s not entirely uncomfortable. Wendy realizes that she’s probably said more words today than she usually does in an entire week, and sighs. Maybe Dipper notices, or maybe he’s just being Dipper, because the next thing he says is, “So how have you been doing?”

Wendy’s on the defensive almost instantly, because the truth is she’s not doing great, and hasn’t been for a while, but she’s always been the relaxed cool one (even if she’s admitted it was a front before), and old habits die hard. “Oh, same old story,” she says, hoping her voice doesn’t betray that a lump has formed in her throat, “just being an adult and shit.” She opens her mouth to add in a “what about you” but Dipper speaks first. 

“You know,” he says in a way that’s trying hard for casual and unconcerned, “I’ve got some leads on some possible pandimensional activity up near your neck of the woods. Could be nothing, but…”

Wendy sees it coming a mile away and for some reason, she tries to head it off immediately, “Dip, no, you know you don’t-”

Dipper’s exclamation of “I’m serious!” comes just slightly too quickly to be believable. He knows it too, which is why he follows up with, “Look, if we’re being _ honest _” which makes Wendy feel like he definitely knows she wasn’t being honest about how she’s doing, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for ages, but I just… I didn’t want to drop out of the blue like ‘oh hey we haven’t talked in like a year but can I sleep on your couch,’ you know?”

Wendy maybe knows a little too well what Dipper means, but she takes the opportunity to maybe cover for herself a little more, so she forces a laugh and says teasingly, “Still overthinking things, huh? You know I’d never turn you away from my door.”

It seems like that second part comes out a little more sincerely than planned, because the silence goes on a little longer than it should before Dipper responds with a soft “No, I guess you wouldn’t, huh?”

“So,” Wendy says, a little louder than necessary, “when can I look forward to having a vagrant drop by?”

“I’m wrapping things up here - just gotta submit a final report on our findings and get sign-off from the client. I’ll probably be done this weekend, if that works for you?”

A spike of anxiety flashes through Wendy. She’s honestly not sure she remembers how to be social anymore - the idea of entertaining a guest for any period of time longer than a few hours is almost overwhelming. Still, she responds with excitement. “Sounds great, dude! I’ll clean the place up for you. Hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“I’ve got an air mattress too,” Dipper says helpfully, “you know, in case the couch sucks.”

“Now _ that’s _ thinking ahead. But also, I can’t believe you insulted my couch, dude. I’m lounging on it _ right now _ . I might even fall asleep on it. It’s _ that good _, dude.” She wasn’t actually on the couch, but a little white lie in service of defending her couch’s honor was allowable.

Dipper laughs. “Guess I’ll find out for myself soon enough.” He almost says something else, but a yawn cuts him off. “Woof, sorry. Long day.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you go for now. Let me know when you’re gonna arrive and I’ll make sure everything’s ready.”

“Thanks, Wen’. I’ll see you in a few days, I guess!” 

Wendy feels a surge of gratitude. “Yeah, see you then.”

“And hey, Wendy - it was good to hear your voice. Glad you called.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me, Pines.” Wendy says teasingly, before adding, “See you soon” and ending the call. 

The rest of the week goes by too quickly for her, or at least, she keeps thinking she’s got time to clean up the apartment right up until she gets a text from Dipper saying he’s about an hour out. That hour is spent in a whirlwind of activity that includes quickly scrubbing down the bathroom, picking various bits of dirty laundry from where she’s let them fall, and rummaging in the closet for the spare pair of sheets and blanket she basically never uses. The door buzzes and she hits the button to let him in, a surge of anxiety and self-consciousness causing her to tie her hair back in a ponytail just as a knock on the door lets her know Dipper’s arrived.

The door opens to reveal (who else) Dipper Pines: looking increasingly like his grunkles, though still a little on the short side (which Wendy has not now, nor would she _ ever _ tease him about, heaven forbid). He’s clearly not shaved in a while - unsurprising, since he’s been on the job - and while the face maybe has gotten a little leaner since she saw him last, he’s still unmistakably the kid she first met what feels increasingly like a lifetime ago.

Wendy wraps him up in a hug and tousels his hair, because she can. “Hey Dip, long time no see.”

Dipper groans a little at the hair tousling, but returns the hug anyway. They stay wrapped up for a few moments longer before he says, “Where’s your bathroom? It was a long drive.”

“Oh, over this way.” Wendy says, and points down the hallway. 

Dipper’s voice echoes off the tiles. “Freshly cleaned, huh? I feel honored.”

“How can you-?” Wendy cuts herself off before realizing she’s just admitted it.

There’s a hint of smugness in Dipper’s voice. “Detective, remember? Also, you left your sponge in the sink.”

“Fuck, I _ knew _ I was forgetting something.” Wendy sighed. “Well, whatever - you’re lucky I bothered cleaning at all, you know.”

Dipper laughed as he exited the bathroom. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Apart from long, how was the drive?”

“Eh, uneventful.”

“What about the job?”

“_ Also _ uneventful.” Dipper sighs, not bothering to mask his disappointment. “Just another rich asshole with an overactive imagination. Stan would’ve fleeced the hell out of him.”

“But you’re too nice to do so, huh?”

Dipper snorts. “What? No, I took him for all he was worth. Stan just would’ve gotten _ more _ out of him.” 

Wendy laughs. “He trained you well, but you always were too nice of a kid to really go for the throat.”

“Yeah, well, it keeps me from spending as much time in prison as he did.”

“Well, I’m sure he’d be proud of you anyway. Plus, it’s not like you didn’t actually perform an investigation.” She pauses, then hesitantly adds, “You uh, you _ did _ perform an investigation, right?”

“Oh please, give me some credit. My van’s packed full of equipment Ford and I designed.”

It’s funny, Wendy thinks, the way that talking about Stan and Ford stopped being something they avoided. Dipper and Mabel had both taken their loss particularly hard. If Wendy was being honest, it was part of the reason she’d not moved back. It wouldn’t be the same. As Dipper unpacks, the conversation carries on, and in short order the TV’s on and the two are on the couch (“_ Told _ you my couch was comfortable, Pines” “Yeah, yeah, I was wrong.” “Don’t tell me, apologize to the _ couch _, dude”) with beers in hand. 

Wendy keeps the conversation focused on what Dipper’s been up to, avoiding the topic of herself as long as possible, pleased to know that _ someone _ is still running around getting into trouble and having adventures, even if she isn’t. _ Why the hell did I think leaving was a good idea? _ she thinks, and just as quickly answers, _ because what _ else _ do you do after you save the world? _

Damnably, Dipper’s whole investigator schtick isn’t complete bullshit, because he _ definitely _ notices the shift in Wendy’s posture and is quick to bring it up. “So hey, you never did tell me how life in Portland’s treating you.”

“Sure I did,” Wendy says, with a disarming smile, “Same old, same old.”

“Yeah, but…” Dipper has a look on his face like he’s trying to work through a particularly difficult puzzle, “you never said what that actually _ is _.”

“Well, it involves a lot less tromping around potentially haunted houses, for a start,” Wendy says with a lopsided grin, “and a lot more sitting in meetings listening to people argue about why their story deserves the cover. Or, you know, making coffee for tech-bro assholes and tourists looking to,” she pauses and widens her eyes dramatically, “‘experience Portland’s rich culture.’”

“I don’t know,” Dipper says, “Sounds a lot more stable than what I’ve got going on. I’m just lucky Mabel lets me use her and Pacifica’s place as a base of operations outside of Gravity Falls.”

“True,” Wendy says, willing at least to acknowledge some of the grass on her side is at least a little greener, “but I mean, you’re still out there _ doing _ something. There’s the off chance you’ll even end up saving all reality again! Not so sure that writing a review of the last punk show I went to is going to have the same effect.”

“Maybe not,” Dipper says, and Wendy knows what he’s about to say and wishes he wouldn’t, “but you’re _ happy _ here, aren’t you?”

Her grip on the beer bottle tightens, and she takes a long sip. She’s all ready to say that yeah, she’s happy enough - and then change the subject as fast as possible - but instead of that she finds herself saying, “I dunno, dude.”

The admission hangs in the air and Wendy swallows nervously. Dipper processes this information quietly, and eventually says, “You haven’t told anyone else this.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“What,” Wendy says, desperately clawing at anything to use as a deflection, “and ruin my reputation as the relaxed one?”

“Wen', you haven’t had the reputation of ‘the relaxed one’ since you told us all it was a front like ten years ago.” Then, because of course he has to, because he’s Dipper, he asks, “How long have you not been sure?”

Rubbing her hand over her face, Wendy sighs out another “I dunno, dude” and then because she knows that’s not an answer that will satisfy Dipper in the slightest, she adds, “it’s not like I woke up one day and was like ‘oh hey, maybe I feel like everything sucks now.’ I just…” she feels her voice catch in her throat and hates, _ hates _ how weak it makes her sound, “I feel like everything’s just a blur, and none of it matters, and,” she feels like the dam’s breaking now and there’s nothing she can do to stop it, “I’m just working to pay bills but I don’t know what the _ point _ is, like, why did we save reality if this is all there is -”

Dipper’s set his beer down, and he gently pulls her in close, so that the rest of what she’s saying is more or less addressed into his shoulder. Wendy’s arms come up under his and she’s clinging to him now as she continues, “and I miss Mabel and Soos and even _ Robby _ , for fuck’s sake… but mostly I guess I miss _ you _ , fuck, I miss you _ so fucking much _, because you’re my best friend and I fucked it all up, I fucked us all up by letting us fall out of touch…” 

“Hey,” Dipper says, rubbing gentle circles into her back in an attempt to soothe, “that’s not all on you. That’s just _ life _, sometimes. People get busy, and it’s not like I couldn’t reach out to you either, you know? We can share responsibility in fucking up.”

"Sorry," Wendy says, pulling back and scrubbing at her face, “I guess I’ve been holding that in for a while.”

There’s a reassuring smile on Dipper’s face. “No worries. This will surprise you, but I _ did _ pack more than one shirt.”

Wendy feels a tightness in her chest loosen and disappear, and she laughs. “Color me impressed. When the hell did you become the one with their shit together, Pines?”

Dipper shrugs, and catches her off-guard with his honest answer of, “Years of therapy, I guess,” but then he adds, “plus I was _ always _ the one with their shit together.”

_ That _ earns him an undignified snort and Wendy flicks his forehead, “I have a very different memory, dude.”

A comfortable silence descends, and Wendy, feeling a little emotionally exhausted, lets it stick around and savors just sitting on the couch with her best friend. _ Snake Cop: The Cop Who Strikes Like a Snake _ starts playing - the Saturday Afternoon Action Feature, apparently - and she lets that distract them. Dipper doesn’t seem inclined to push her on everything she dumped on him, instead falling into their familiar watching mode of commentary and questioning. Wendy gets up and retrieves some more beer, and as the rest of the day carries on, they order a pizza, Dipper disappears and reappears with more bad movies, and eventually Wendy falls asleep on the couch.

When she wakes up the next morning with a crick in her neck, Dipper’s asleep on the floor, having inflated his air mattress while she, presumably, was busy drooling on the armrest. She stretches, and her spine pops audibly. She groans a little, which brings Dipper shooting upright with his hands forming what she assumes is some kind of defensive ward.

“Woah, there’s the old excitable Pines I remember!” Wendy says, chuckling. 

Dipper looks over at Wendy and coughs, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m uh, I’m not used to having someone else around when I wake up.”

Wendy stands up and hisses in pain as her hip informs her it does not appreciate being slept on all night. “Well, I’m not used to waking up on my couch these days, so we’ll call it even. Breakfast?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dipper replies, now standing and working the kinks out of his own back. “Ugh, I should’ve just taken your bed instead of this air mattress. I think I’ve got the same crappy back as Grunkle Stan.”

“Pines family legacy, eh? Interest in the paranormal and bad backs?” Wendy’s in the kitchen, realizing that she really doesn’t keep that much in the way of breakfast food around. She usually just grabs these little breakfast bars, but she also has some fruit and some pancake mix from the last time she had someone over, which means it’s probably a year old. She peers into the box with a dubious expression before deciding that fuck it, dry mixes don’t go bad… probably. 

Dipper wanders in around this time and, because he’s Dipper, offers to help out. In short order he’s dug out Wendy’s skillet and found some butter (that had a little mold on it, sure, but he cuts it off), and the smell of pancakes eventually fills the apartment.

“So,” Wendy says, after she’s swallowed a bite and been pleasantly surprised to find it is, in fact, delicious, “what’s the plan for today?”

Dipper shrugs. “Figured I’d head out to the site, meet with the client, maybe take a few initial readings to see how serious things actually are.” He looks at Wendy with a familiar glint in his eye that sends a thrill of excitement through her. “You wanna come with?”

“Come on dude, is that even a _ question? _ ” There’s a grin on her face and Wendy feels something in her come alive after a long hibernation. “Of _ course _ I’m coming with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No seriously I just had one of those late-night/early morning/all day moments of thinking "goddamn what am I doing with my life" and felt like if anyone was going to have a similar moment, Wendy was probably it. So then this happened, and, well, here we are.
> 
> Could this have been longer? Sure, probably. Am I going to continue this? Eh, maybe? Also the nature of this one means I didn't really spend a lot of time editing, so apologies for any incoherence. If nothing else, I'll probably notice it and come back and fix it later.
> 
> EDIT: Oh look I did just that. Some tenses and weirdness have now been _purged forever_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dread specter of continuity returns to haunt us all.

It becomes apparent with a surprising rapidity that this particular investigation might actually have something to it. Or at least, a light on the dashboard begins to blink insistently, which causes Dipper’s eyebrows to shoot up and a delighted look to cross his face. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he says under his breath, “that almost  _ never _ happens.”

Wendy shoots him an incredulous look. “Wait, really? Are you saying this might be legit?”

“No ‘might’ about it. That light means there’s a thin spot between dimensions nearby.” Dipper grins. 

“Which means… your client actually has a problem?” Wendy guesses.

“Maybe.” Dipper says, shrugging. “This just means there’s something in about a five mile radius. I’ve got some other equipment that we can set up to triangulate the location of the breach -” 

“Or… we just talk to your client and find out that way.” Wendy gives Dipper a not-entirely condescending prod. “Overthinking things, dude. It’s like your one weakness.”

“You know, I missed your direct way of doing things.” Dipper says, not without a little nostalgia in his voice.

Wendy smiles, feeling a rush of pleasure at being back on the hunt for the unexplainable. “Some things never change, I guess.”

An unidentifiable expression flits across Dipper’s face before he says, “Yeah, I guess not,” and grins. He taps at his phone where he’s mounted it on the dashboard. “Looks like we’re almost there. Let’s go meet a client.”

The two exit the van and head up a front walkway leading to a small two-story house. Wendy’s initial thought is that it looks awfully new for a potentially haunted house, but she assumes that if they’re dealing with a ‘thin spot between dimensions’, it doesn’t really matter.

“Apparently the former owners built a new house after the old one burned down in a fire.” Dipper says, as if reading her mind. “Our client claims they didn’t tell him  _ why _ the old house burned down, but he uh… thinks it might have been ghosts.”

As Dipper presses the doorbell, Wendy looks at him with an incredulous expression. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Dipper says, shrugging.

Wendy’s about to respond when the door opens to reveal their client, a middle-aged looking man with a receding hairline and pencil-thin mustache. Wendy immediately notices that he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping well - there’s bags under his eyes and his state of dress is most charitably described as disheveled. 

He sticks a hand out at Dipper. “You Pines?” 

Dipper nods, shaking the proffered limb. “That’s me. You must be Mr. Deekins. Nice to meet you in person.”

"Please, call me Chuck." Deekins says affably, before turning to Wendy with a curious look on his face. "And you are…?"

"Wendy Corduroy." Wendy says, with a slight bow.

"She's an old friend and fellow expert in these sorts of matters," Dipper adds, "and if your problem ends up being of the violent sort she's the one to address it."

"He means that I'm good at punching demons." Wendy supplies helpfully, backing Dipper's play. "Though the odds of that being necessary are pretty low."

Chuck gives Wendy a once over, taking in her build and general posture before nodding, satisfied with the explanation. "Well, come in and I'll tell you all about it."

The house, in spite of its status as allegedly haunted, is surprisingly tidy. The front entryway opens up to a living room to the left, a kitchen to the back, and a hallway leading to another room on the right. A set of stairs leading up to the second floor stand in the center, looking a little out of place in Wendy's opinion, but she's not an architect. The decor is minimal - a few photos on the wall of what is Chuck's family, she assumes, and a grandfather clock standing against the wall are all she sees as Chuck leads them into the dining area, where a tray of cheese and crackers is waiting for them. 

Chuck gestures to the tray vaguely. "I didn't know if you'd want something to snack on while we talk or not, so…"

Wendy can hear Stan’s voice in her head saying something about never turning down a free meal, and pops some cheese in her mouth. “Appreciated, dude.” 

Dipper can’t quite suppress his amusement, but he makes a noble effort of it. “Okay Chuck, walk us through everything. When it started, how it started, anything you think might be important.”

Chuck nods as Wendy takes some more cheese and crackers. “Well, I only bought the house six months ago. The previous owners told me they were moving east, and that was the reason for the sale and the relatively low asking price. ‘We don’t want to have to fly out just to do a signing,’ they said. It’s a great house, so I was only too happy to take advantage. Felt like I’d gotten incredibly lucky, except as it turns out…” He sighs and pauses briefly to nibble dolorously on a cracker, “well, shortly after I moved in I noticed some weird things. Cold spots in the kitchen, strange noises at night, stuff seemingly moving when I wasn’t looking, that kind of thing. I figure eh, houses are weird and I’m just forgetting where I put my keys or whatever."

Dipper nods understandingly. "Obviously, you wouldn't jump directly to ghosts.  _ I  _ wouldn't even jump directly to ghosts."

This seems to reassure Chuck, and he continues his story. "About a month goes by and things escalate a little. Stuff starts falling off of shelves, and the noises at night start to sound less like house noise and more… organized. I start thinking maybe I'm just going a little nuts, living on my own in a big house, so I decided to try getting out of the house a little more - and it worked, sort of. I wasn't noticing as much weird shit, so I figure that's it. As long as I'm out and about, the house seems like it's fine - misplaced keys and the odd fallen book off a shelf notwithstanding." He takes a deep breath, and Wendy recognizes the expression on his face immediately. It's the "I'm about to say the thing that makes you think I'm completely fucking insane" face. "Then a month ago, the noises became voices."

There's a shift in Dipper's posture that Chuck probably doesn't notice, but Wendy does and it immediately puts her on alert. She begins to suspect Dipper has an idea of what's going on, and he doesn't like it at all. 

"Voices." He says, a hint of curiosity coloring his voice. "What kind of voices? They say anything in particular?"

Chuck thinks for a minute, chewing slowly before answering. “No, just a bunch of nonsense.”

Dipper nods. “Any recurring phrases?”

“Eyes.” Chuck says, so quickly that Wendy shoots Dipper a look. “Yellowed eyes and fingers.” He grimaces. “That was last night’s theme, anyway.”

Dipper leans back with an air of casualness that is, Wendy knows, completely fake, and waves his hand dismissively. “Sounds pretty standard. Have they ever asked you to do anything? Like, for permission to enter or anything like that?”

This seems to jog Chuck’s memory, because his eyes light up. “No, they’ve never asked for permission or anything - but they’ve said stuff about permission being given once or twice. Doesn’t make any sense to me, honestly.”

There’s a shrug from Dipper. “Just background noise. If they aren’t asking you for something, whatever you’re dealing with doesn’t know how to communicate. I’ll need to do some tests to be sure, but it sounds like you’ve just got a pretty basic level one haunting.”

Surprisingly, this news seems to relax Chuck. “Level one?”

“Hauntings run on a scale of one to ten.” Dipper explains, slipping into an almost professorial air, “One is just random spirit energy that gets stuck in a spot for one reason or another, whereas ten is a real malevolent force - usually there’s a curse involved. Those can get a little tricky, but for this a seal in the right spot will clear things up.” He assembles a sandwich out of cheese and crackers and pops it in his mouth, looking almost bored. “My associate and I just need to grab some supplies and we’ll have your house cleansed in a jiffy.”

Standing, Dipper gestures to Wendy. “Come on then, some of this equipment can be a little heavy. Time to earn your pay.”

Wendy feigns surprise. “You’re paying me?” 

Dipper rolls his eyes. “Look, just come help me move this stuff, would you?” 

As soon as the two are at the van, Dipper looks over his shoulder at the now closed door and gives Wendy a look. “This is not going to be cleansed in a jiffy.” He says with a grimace.

Wendy, conscious of the possibility of Chunk watching, doesn’t visibly react with anything more than a grin. “Thought you’d say that. I take it this isn’t a level one haunting?”

“It’s not even a  _ haunting _ .” Dipper says, something like worry on his face. “It’s a proper incursion. One that’s already claimed its first victim.”

This time Wendy isn’t quite able to keep the disappointment off her face. “Aw man, what? You mean…”

“That’s not Chuck.” Dipper says, keeping his tone level. “I doubt it’s been Chuck since the voices started. We’re just getting echoes of his personality - which, fortunately enough, means that it’s not likely we’ll have to fight him.” He opens a toolbox and pulls out a set of brass knuckles, which he tosses to Wendy. “Better take these, though. Just in case.”

Wendy catches the knucks, which are cool to the touch - cooler than they have any right to be - and have several chunky-looking runes etched into their surface. “Are these...?”

“Enchanted brass knuckles,” Dipper says, with a small grin, “tuned to impact creatures with energy signatures relating to other dimensions.”

Wendy stares at Dipper. “For punching spirits?”

“Yep.”

Wendy beams. “You always get me the best gifts.”

Dipper pulls a few cases out of the back of the van and indicates one to Wendy. “Alright, you take this one, I’ll take that one. Once we have the location of the tear, the entities will probably get a little aggressive until I get it shut.”

Wendy picks up the case with a small grunt. “Did you really give me the heavy one, dude?”

Dipper snorts. “Of course I did. You think I’m gonna carry the heavy stuff with my noodly arms when I’ve got you around?” 

There’s a warm feeling of pride that blooms in Wendy’s chest, and she hefts the case up a little higher, flexing her arms a little. Still, she feels the need to respond, “Man, and here I thought  _ I  _ was the lazy one.”

“It’s just an intelligent distribution of resources!” Dipper insists with a wounded tone, like the two of them aren’t walking into a high-risk scenario that could potentially kill them. “I’m just being an effective leader.”

“Pfft, whatever, Pines.” 

Chuck opens the door and ushers them back inside. “That’s a lot of equipment you’ve got there! What’s it all for?”

Dipper sets his case down with a grunt. “Well, we need to know the exact location of the area the spirits are getting through, which can be tricky. This equipment,” he says, opening one of the cases, “helps to pinpoint that location.”

Wendy sets her case down next to his and moves to open it, but Dipper gives her a subtle shake of the head, so she sits on top of it instead, pretending to be exhausted. “Well dude, I hope it doesn’t take too long. Cheese and crackers are good and all, but I might want some kind of actual dinner today, you know?”

Chuck beams at the mention of his cheese and crackers, and turns to Dipper. “Will it take long?”

Dipper withdraws a small box with some wires running to a small satellite dish on a tripod which, after a gesture from him, Wendy takes out of the case and begins to set up. “Depends on the size of the area. The smaller it is, the longer it will take. If I’m right, it’s a relatively small area so it could take a couple hours, maybe more.”

Flipping a few switches on the box causes it to spring to life, and the dish begins to slowly pan back and forth. Another box and dish is produced, and Dipper leads Wendy to another corner of the house to set it up. Chuck follows behind, looking on curiously. Upon setting up the third and final dish, Dipper pulls a smaller device out of his pocket and begins looking at its screen, which is showing something like the arrow of a compass lazily rotating.

Wendy peers over Dipper’s shoulder. “Is it working?”

Dipper nods. “Yep, it’s zeroing in now.”

A few more minutes go by and the arrow continues its lazy rotation. Wendy casts a glance at Chuck, who seems to be politely hovering around just in case they need something. She thinks about how Dipper said they’re only getting echoes of the person Chuck was, and feels a sudden wave of pity tinged with disgust. Now that she knows, it’s more obvious the little ways in which his mannerisms and movements aren’t  _ quite  _ right. There’s a half-second pause in between his movements, like whatever’s in him has to load up the behavior. Fortunately, she’s gotten good at keeping up appearances, so apart from maybe looking slightly more impatient, she doubts whatever’s left of Chuck suspects anything. Dipper starts frowning, and begins to wander around the kitchen in a slow circle. He faces the wall and fiddles with a few knobs before tapping another button which causes the compass arrow to become three dimensional and slowly point to the floor. 

“Hey Chuck, where’s the entrance to the basement?” 

There’s a longer pause before Chuck responds this time which makes Wendy slip her hand into her pocket to grip the cold metal of the brass knuckles Dipper gave her. Eventually, Chuck’s eyes slide across a spot on the wall like he’s being forced to turn his head, and he gives a quizzical look to Dipper. “There isn’t a basement.”

Dipper hums, seemingly more focused on his screen than Chuck’s reply. “Must be something up with my monitor..” he mutters, patting his pockets. “Shit. Wendy, can you run to the van and get my screwdriver? Toolbox on the left side, third drawer down.”

Wendy hesitates for a second, reluctant to leave him alone with Chuck, but she decides to trust that Dipper knows what he’s doing and heads out of the house. She opens the back of the van and quickly spots the toolbox. There’s no screwdriver in the third drawer down, but there  _ is _ a necklace with a charm on it in the shape of what looks like a woven Celtic knot. Wendy guesses this is what Dipper actually needed her to get, shoves the charm in her pocket, and finds an actual screwdriver while she’s at it.

When she gets back into the house, there’s the sound of a scuffle and she sprints to the kitchen, arriving just in time to see Chuck throw Dipper backwards into the wall hard enough that he busts halfway through it. Chuck’s eyes are wide and yellowed, and there’s a snarl on his face as he shouts in a distorted voice “YOU WILL NOT INTERFERE WITH OUR ARRIVAL, INSECT.” 

Wendy doesn’t have time to think of a suitably witty retort, so she settles for a war whoop and a flying punch to Chuck’s jaw. There’s a blinding flash and something blue flies backwards out of Chuck’s body. The body drops to the floor with a thud, a puppet with cut strings. 

The blue spirit whirls in a searching circle, then dives directly at Wendy only to splash harmlessly against an unseen shield. It gives a wail of despair and dissipates. Wendy stands there panting for a few seconds before she remembers Dipper and turns to the wall. Dipper seems to have entered the wall ass-first, and he’s hunched over. He gives Wendy a rueful look and waves. “I take it you’ve got the talisman, then.”

Relief floods through Wendy’s body and she snickers. “You look ridiculous, dude.”

“Yeah, well I should also look uncomfortable. Get me out of here.”

Wendy reaches out and pulls Dipper out of the wall. He straightens up with a grimace, dusting plaster off his back. “Should’ve known better than to press the issue on the basement with Chuck. I think it made them panic.”

“Them?”

“The entities trying to break through. As far as I can tell…” Dipper pulled out a notebook and flipped through, “they’re a non-corporeal, memetic, self-replicating swarm entity.”

Wendy gives Dipper a blank look. 

“Think of it like a song you can’t get out of your head, except it can think for itself and also wants to overwrite your nervous system so it can walk around in your body.” Dipper clarifies, then pauses. “Er, also there’s millions of them.”

Wendy feels the sudden need to sit down, and says so. Dipper gives her a look that is not without sympathy. “Sorry, I sometimes forget this stuff isn’t just common knowledge.” He frowns and quietly adds, “Too much time spent on my own, I guess.”

Wendy raises an eyebrow at that and asks the question that sprang into her mind last night, though she’d not bothered asking at the time. “What happened to your assistant, anyway? I thought you were working with someone.”

Dipper hesitates, looking uncomfortable before answering. “They uh, decided they wanted out.”

“Too much weirdness, huh?”

Dipper winces. “Too much  _ me _ , I think.”

“Ah, so  _ that’s  _ what happened to Jess, huh?” Wendy sighs. “Sorry, dude. Forget I brought it up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dipper says, then changes the subject. “The uh, the stuff about fingers and eyes - it’s part of the memetic phrase they’re composed of. That shape of that charm you’ve got emits a sort of response echo that cancels out their voices and keeps them from being able to get in. That’s why the one in Chuck couldn’t start the process with you.”

“What about you?” Wendy asks, suddenly worried. “Couldn’t it have taken you?”

In response, Dipper pulls down his shirt collar to reveal a tattoo with the same shape as the charm. “I uh, I kept forgetting to wear it so I opted for a more permanent solution.”

“And you just… forgot to give it to me?”

“Actually I uh, kind of didn’t think we’d need it. But as soon as I realized they’d had Chuck hide the basement, I realized they had a much tighter control over him than I thought. I’ll bet the timeline he gave us wasn’t accurate, and he heard voices way sooner.” Dipper frowns. “Which means he was probably already mostly gone by the time he contacted me… god  _ damn it _ .” 

Wendy jumps slightly at the outburst as Dipper punches the wall. “What is it?” she says, even though the answer seems pretty obvious.

“He was probably already dead by the time he contacted me. I never could have saved him to  _ begin _ with.” Dipper’s hands were clenched into fists, and his breath was coming hard. 

“So what?” Wendy says, a little belligerently. “These uh, non-corporeal whatevers, they’re still a problem, right? We’ve still got work to do?”

Dipper comes back from wherever his mind had wandered off to with a start. “Uh, yeah. Yeah we’ve got to uh…” he pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing, “we’ve got to find the basement. That’s where the thin spot is.”

Wendy peers through the hole Dipper’s body left in the wall. “I think I found it, dude.”

Dipper joins her and peers through as well. A set of stairs lead down into darkness. “Convenient.” He kicks at the wall, clearing a path. There’s a lightswitch on the wall which, to their surprise, still works. 

Wendy steps in front of him. “How about I take lead on this one, Pines? You follow after I make sure there’s nothing that wants to throw you into any more walls down there.” 

It’s as close to an admission that Wendy’s a little freaked out by Dipper being attacked as she’s willing to make, and of  _ course _ Dipper realizes it. “Fine, fine. I’ll go get the equipment.”

Wendys’s footsteps echo into the silence of the basement as she descends, feeling not entirely unlike she’s descending into hell. As it turns out, however, the basement is light on hellish horrors and strong on… a nice throw rug, sofa, and entertainment center. Also, a wall with glowing runes carved into it that pulse with a sickly yellow light. Wendy moves around the basement cautiously, eyes peeled for any movement. There’s a whispering on the edge of her hearing, and she finds herself clutching the charm pendant tightly. 

The sound of Dipper’s footsteps startle her, but the feeling of unpleasant surprise is quickly replaced by relief. “Is it uh, clear?” 

“I dunno Pines, you tell me.” Wendy replies, gesturing at the symbols on the wall. “There’s no creatures crawling around, anyway.”

Dipper is carrying a telescoping metal staff under one arm and what looked like a spoked metal wheel in his other hand. He looks at the symbols on the wall and swears. “It  _ is _ further along than I thought.”

“But you can still seal it, right?”

Dipper drops the wheel and extends the staff. He spins the staff, a little showily Wendy thinks, and gives a confident grin. “Oh of course. But uh, be ready - when they feel the portal start to collapse, they’ll probably send something through. Might want to put that charm around your neck so you don’t risk dropping it in all the excitement.”

Wendy nods, ignoring the chill that runs over her at the thought, and quickly secures the necklace. “Thanks. Are you ready?”

Dipper nods, takes a deep breath, and jams the staff in the center of the wall. It hangs there, clearly not in the wall - it’s in something else entirely. He takes the wheel and mounts it on the staff, pushes it against the wall, and turns a small crank that expands the wheel until it covers the runes entirely. A low humming sound starts, and Dipper nods in satisfaction. He pulls his notebook out again and begins reading in a language she doesn’t understand. The humming gets louder, and wind starts blowing from the center of the sigils. 

“Okay,” Dipper says, speaking a little louder to be heard over the howling of the wind, “this is where it gets interesting.” He flips to a new page in his notebook and begins speaking again just as something that resembles a large cat, if cats glowed blue and had tentacles where their face should be, barrels out of the end of the staff in Dipper’s direction.

Wendy is fast, jumping in front of Dipper and catching the beast, though the force of its leap causes her to stagger backwards. She twists her body to avoid hitting Dipper and uses the cat’s momentum to throw it into a metal support column. The cat surprises her by sinking into the pole slightly, as if it’s not  _ quite _ solid, and lashes out with its claws. Wendy ducks in low and brings her arm up to catch the paw under the claws, then brings the hand with the knuckles around to deal a few blows to the thing’s… stomach, she guesses. The runes on the brass flare and the creature makes a noise that is absolutely not the sort of noise anything should make. A ghostly fire bursts out and the creature  _ shrivels _ , which is good because a second one comes barrelling out of the staff and Dipper has to dive out of the way - still reciting whatever spell, somehow - to avoid it. 

Wendy tackles the new creature, and is rewarded with a raking of claws down her side that she doesn’t feel the pain of yet, but will soon enough. More immediately troublesome is the force of the blow causes her to stagger, leaving Dipper open to attack. It is luck that saves them, as the creature seems more concerned with finishing Wendy off - it bounds after her and pounces, bringing Wendy to the ground with a shout. Wendy feels tentacles wrap around her arm, freezing it, and she lets the knuckles slip off to grab them with her free hand. She brings that hand around in what is essentially an open-palm slap just as Dipper’s voice reaches a crescendo. Sound drops out entirely for a moment, replaced a few seconds later by an unearthly howling. There’s a blinding flash, and then there’s just the sound of Dipper and Wendy’s breathing accompanied by a clatter as the staff and wheel fall to the ground. Wendy groans and sits up from the ground, feeling a little woozy.

“Did that do it?” She asks, her voice echoing in the silence.

Dipper is breathing hard like he’s just run a marathon. He looks at where the staff has fallen on the ground, then up at the wall which is clear of symbols and smoking slightly. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “no problem.”

Wendy lays back down on the ground. “Good.” She feels a thrill go through her and starts laughing. “Dude, I can’t believe I punched those things! That was - ow!” This last sentence cuts off as the claw marks on her side make themselves known. 

Dipper’s by her side immediately, worry etched into his features. “Oh fuck, sorry, I didn’t even-”

“Don’t worry about it dude, I’ve had worse.” Wendy says, still on her back. She sticks her hand up. “Give me a hand up, would you? We can patch me up after we’re out of this house.”

This seems to shock Dipper into action, and he quickly pulls Wendy upright, who leans into him for support initially before straightening up again. “So,” she says, one hand holding her side, “what now?”

“Well, now I carry my equipment back out and we bandage up your side.” Dipper says, bending to pick up the staff and wheel. “Then, once we’re packed back up I call the cleaners and we get out of here.”

“The cleaners?”

Dipper grins. “Well, don’t tell them that’s what I call ‘em. You remember those agents we encountered back in Gravity Falls? The ones who were after Grunkle Stan?”

“Of course. You wiped their memories when Ford returned.”

“Well, I made contact with them several years back - they showed up at a job I was doing a little uh, unexpectedly.” Dipper places the staff and wheel back into the larger case and begins disassembling one of the dishes. “I managed to work out a deal with them by portraying myself as a charlatan over his head - promised I’d contact them any time one of my marks ended up being legitimate. I just prefer not to be around by the time they get here. They always want to have me fill out paperwork and then they threaten to arrest me.”

“Sounds like a real peaceful working relationship.” Wendy says, not without some amusement. “You realize, of course, they could find you if they really wanted to.”

Dipper shrugs. “Yes, but  _ they _ realize that I’m more useful out of custody. Most of the time I don’t bother bringing them in, but with Chuck moldering in the kitchen back there…” He sighs. “Usually I manage to save everyone.”

“Well,” Wendy says, wincing again, “you kept me from getting possessed. Probably saved the world again, too. Or Seattle, at least.” There’s a dripping noise that she realizes is coming from her arm, which is sticky with blood. “Hey uh, not to panic you or anything Pines, but maybe we should do something about these claw marks?”

Dipper panics a bit anyway, and hustles Wendy out to the van. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He quickly retrieves a first aid kit and begins pulling out bandages and bottles of disinfectant.

“If I’m being honest, the pain’s not as bad as you’d think.” Wendy says as Dipper rolls up her shirt to get a better look at the wounds. She hisses as the fabric peels away from her skin. “Okay, maybe the pain  _ is _ as bad as you’d think.”

Dipper carefully wipes the wound clean and inspects them with a surprisingly professional air. “Well, at least I don’t have to stitch you up - they aren’t too deep.” He opens a bottle of disinfectant and gives her a look. “This will sting a bit.”

Wendy lets out a particularly forceful swear as the disinfectant makes contact. “I think the claws hurt less.”

“Yeah well, I don’t need you getting an infection on me.” Dipper says, beginning to wrap a bandage around Wendy’s torso. “I like keeping my assistants alive.”

Wendy raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. “You offering me a permanent position, Pines?”

To his credit, Dipper doesn’t react by stammering an apology for presuming, or immediately saying she doesn’t have to. Instead, he gives a casual shrug and says, “If you want.”

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

Wendy thinks about her apartment. She thinks about her job, and now she’s been sleepwalking through it recently. She thinks about how she almost died saving reality (again) from some unspecified, awful fate. She wonders if she can manage to get her boss to let her still file stories, because she kind of likes writing articles now and again. Maybe a regular article about the paranormal, presented tongue-in-cheek, would be popular. She thinks about how none of that really matters because this is the first time she’s felt like  _ herself _ in years (she thinks,  _ very _ briefly, about how safe she feels with Dipper’s hands on her skin).

“Alright Pines,” she says, sticking her still-bloody hand out, “You’ve got yourself a partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I didn't _mean_ to continue this, but you know how it is sometimes. You have this existential crisis, work through it in the usual way, and then have some ideas for further adventures in the little corner of the universe you don't own you unwittingly carved out. 
> 
> Because I'm very lazy, I'll just pop any further ideas I have in this particular continuity here too. Keep it all in one place, for organization's sake.


	3. Pit Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Wendy visit Mabel and Pacifica. Mabel has a suspicion. Wendy has a denial.

Wendy gives an audible “oof!” as Mabel barrels into her stomach with a whoop.

“Wendy! It’s so good to see you!” The other Pines, like her brother, is much taller than she used to be, but she still only comes up to just under Wendy’s chin. “It’s been  _ actual years! _ That’s too long!”

There’s a pang of guilt. “I know, right? Time kind of got away from me, huh?”

“I think it got away from all of us, don’t you think?” Pacifica says, sweeping in with her uncanny talent for knowing the right thing to say. “Mabel tends to get wrapped up in her work, and I’ve never been  _ particularly _ good at keeping up with people unless someone forces me to.”

This is, according to Mabel at least, completely true. Pacifica was, by her own admission, something of a neurotic mess when it came to socializing - courtesy of the immense pressure her parents used to put her under when it came to upholding the family’s good name. That their darling daughter was less of a social butterfly and more of an introvert was never something they really accepted. It’s something of a comfort to Wendy, at least.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m the responsible one then.” Dipper throws in, grinning like an idiot and ruffling his sister’s hair. 

Wendy snorts. “Responsible one? Didn’t I have to save you from a vampire two weeks ago because  _ someone _ forgot to wear the right protective gear?” 

“Hey, it wasn’t a  _ real _ vampire. Just some guy in a costume.”

“Yes, but he still put you on your ass and - correct me if I’m wrong, but  _ who _ had to step in and save the day? Was it...your dashing assistant?”

Dipper rolls his eyes and turns to his sister for backup. “ _ One _ time.  _ One _ time she saves me from some guy with fake pointy teeth and she’s never let me hear the end of it.”

Wendy catches Mabel’s eye and mouths “one time this month,” earning a snicker. She gives her brother a look that struggles to look serious and says, “Oh of course bro-bro, I know you’ve always been responsible.”

“Well…” Pacifica pipes up, “he’s certainly more responsible than  _ you _ are, dear.”

Mabel beams and does not deny the truth of this statement in the slightest. "Yes but my irresponsible nature is part of my eternally youthful charms!"

The chatter continues through the evening, as Dipper and Wendy tell various stories about the last several jobs, most of which are descriptions of various scams, although more than a few of which happen to be stories of actual paranormal shenanigans. Wendy is sure to explain in detail how badass she's been personally, particularly when it comes to saving Dipper's ass, although she doesn't really need to as Dipper is also only too happy to explain the various ways he would have been dead without her. The two continually interrupt one another in what seems like a game of one-upsmanship to see who can make their exploits sound the coolest, while Mabel and Pacifica nod, make occasional exclamations of excitement, and, when Dipper and Wendy aren't paying attention, share the occasional knowing look.

"No, you're remembering it wrong, Pines, he was far more terrified than that. Of a fucking _ guy in a bedsheet! _ Like in a cartoon! He wasn't even wearing a mask! He'd just cut some holes out so he could see properly!"

"I guess his scream was pretty loud…"

"And look," Wendy says, laughing, "this was after Dipper explained there wasn't any actual ghost! We were very clear about it! There was a  _ printout! _ "

Pacifica looks confused. "I'm sorry, there was a  _ what? _ "

Dipper looks vaguely embarrassed. "You know, a printout. Like a report detailing the entropic and necromantic energy levels, based on the readings we took. For documentation purposes."

"Bro, you are still the biggest nerd I know." Mabel cackles, before checking her watch and jumping up. "Woah, time got away from me there. I think our dinner should be ready in a few minutes." She looks over at Wendy with a completely innocent sparkle in her eye. "Think you can help me get everything out here, Wendy?"

Wendy should suspect Mabel's request, but she's out of practice, so instead she shrugs and stands, but not without comment. "What is it with you Pines kids and making me carry stuff all the time? I'm more than just a set of bitching arms, ya know."

"Yeah," Dipper says with a grin, "she's  _ also _ a set of fists."

Mabel laughs and drags Wendy off before she can think of a suitable rejoinder (or find something to throw, which would really only prove Dipper's point). The kitchen smells delicious, which is a testament to the skill with which Mabel and Pacifica can put a meal together on short notice - Wendy feels the slightest pang of jealousy over their shared domesticity before the thought that she and Dipper already  _ have _ something like that in their own weird way crosses her mind. She looks over her shoulder into the dining room where Dipper and Pacifica are laughing over something or other and a fond smile crosses her features. Mabel notices, because she's Mabel and she always notices. 

"You know," she says, airily, "I think it's nice, what you two have."

It's a familiar statement, one she's made before, but it still catches Wendy slightly off-guard. "What do you mean?"

Mabel gives her an almost pitying look. "Oh, you know… it's just nice seeing you two like, together."

"We're not-"

“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said on numerous occasions. I didn’t mean it  _ that _ way,” Mabel says, even though that's definitely how she means it, “I just mean… Look, between you and me, I worry about my bro sometimes. He’s doing dangerous stuff, and for a little while it looked like he'd be doing it on his own, which isn't exactly the best situation." She pauses again before continuing. "I don't know how much he's told you, but he had a couple partners who just... didn't quite know how to handle him the way you do.” 

Wendy nods. She's heard stories, of course, because Dipper and she do occasionally swap tales of their personal relationship disasters. Dipper's stories don't always tend to be romantic, but they all tend to end the same way: Someone got involved in the weirdness, and didn't realize just what that actually entails. Add to that dealing with someone who occasionally still has flashbacks to the end of the world and wakes up screaming now and again, and it isn't quite that surprising.

"I'm just saying," Mabel continues, "I'm glad you're looking out for my bro." Wendy opens her mouth to say something like ‘of course,’ but then Mabel adds, almost offhandedly, “Plus, he’s been good for you.”

That catches Wendy off-guard. “What the hell does  _ that _ mean?”

“ _ Wen _ dy,” Mabel says in an almost chiding tone, “did you forget who you’re talking to? Dipper’s not the only Pines with the mind of a detective. We hear from you  _ way  _ more often since you and Dipper started working together, and you… I don’t know how to put this…”

“Spit it out, Pines.”

Mabel puts some thought into her words before she talks, which is how Wendy knows she really means it when she says, “There’s this look you get whenever you see him. Not like a ‘oh yeah break me off a piece of that’ thing, more like… you just look  _ satisfied _ . Like you’re happy with where you are, you know? You uh, didn't have that look the last time we saw you.”

Wendy has no idea what Mabel is talking about. Except some part of her knows  _ exactly _ what Mabel is talking about, because Wendy has been trying for the better part of the last month to figure out what’s shifted in her. She  _ has _ felt more at ease recently, the odd brush with death here and there aside. She feels better going out and looking for the weird shit than she ever felt sitting around trying to live normally. As harrowing as their first job together had been, she'd felt like something missing had clicked into place. The world makes more sense when you accept the existence of potentially hostile pan dimensional entities and start seeking them out instead of pretending they don't exist, as it turns out.

As significant a part as Dipper played in that realization, however, Wendy's not quite ready to make the leap from ‘I am glad I’ve found my calling’ to ‘I’m in love with Dipper’ just yet. “Look,” she says, a little defensively, “I won’t deny that I’m happier running around with your brother conducting paranormal investigations, but I don’t know what else you’re seeing there.”

Mabel raises her hands in surrender (or maybe placation). “Alright, alright, if you say so.”

“Damn right.” Wendy says a little testily before adding, in a somewhat conciliatory tone, “Look, I love you Mabes, but you’re kind of a hopeless romantic. Your brother and I are friends and business partners, and that’s the end of it. I  _ am _ happier, though. It’s been nice.”

To her credit, Mabel doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the evening. When the night grows late, she offers Wendy the guest room and Dipper the couch - and in what is obviously a herculean effort, refrains from comment when Wendy shrugs and casually drops that honestly, they can just share the room.

“It’s not like we haven’t been sharing the fold out in your van on the road, Pines.” 

The lack of a reaction from Dipper beyond a shrug of his own and an admission that it  _ would _ be nice to sleep in a bed instead of a sofa, however, nearly causes her to explode. Pacifica, observant as ever, gently ushers her wife into their own room to give the two space (and give Mabel a chance to scream into a pillow about how oblivious the two are) with an excuse about getting ready for bed.

What would  _ really  _ send Mabel over the edge is the fact that Wendy and Dipper have been sharing a bed for months now - Wendy’s apartment has become something like their West Coast Headquarters, and after one particularly hairy encounter the two of them had mutually, silently agreed that they preferred to have someone with them while sleeping. It’s a way to watch each other’s back, or at least that’s what Wendy thinks. It also means that when one of them wakes up from a particularly nasty memory of a dangerous job - or even memories as far back as the hell of Weirdmageddon - there’s someone else around to reassure the other that no, they’re not about to die, they’re safe, and the world is still there. Tonight passes by uneventfully, and if Wendy lets herself stay in bed wrapped around Dipper (Wendy is  _ always _ big spoon, when the two end up that way) a little longer than she usually does before rolling out of bed and heading into the shower, well, nobody needs to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep finding reasons to add to this, it seems. The allure of the vignette, I suppose, is rather strong. Anyway, I'll figure out some other thing for these two to get up to at some point. We'll find out together, won't we?


	4. Office Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy gets a taste of the office lifestyle, and decides it isn't for her. Dipper takes a risk.

“Miss Courderoy, I thought I told you I needed those papers on my desk before lunch?” Mister Jefferson’s brow is furrowed in familiar disappointment.

Wendy jumps in surprise, startled out of a daydream that’s already evaporating into nothingness. “Sorry sir! I was waiting on some additional input before I printed out the final version.” Her fingers tap the command for print and she tries not to look too guilty. “It’s printing now.”

Jefferson sighs deeply. “Miss Courderoy, if you needed extra input before finalizing the report, you should have been clear about the deadline to the people you contacted. A missed deadline is a missed deadline, no matter the reason. I needed that report before lunch, because I have a meeting on its contents in twenty minutes, and I wanted to read the report during my lunch break. Now I only have twenty minutes before I need to be familiar enough with the report to discuss it with the higher-ups. You understand the position this puts me in, yes?”

There’s an unpleasant flush of shame blooming through Wendy’s chest and she swallows nervously. “I”m sorry sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

“See that it doesn’t, Miss Courderoy.” Mister Jefferson gives Wendy a look that brooks no argument. “We expect the best at this firm, and if we can’t rely on you to hit a simple deadline, we don’t have a place for you. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Mister Jefferson. Sorry again.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mister Jefferson says, with the practiced air of a middle manager, “be better.” He walks off in the direction of his office, calling behind him as he goes. “Bring the report to my desk, please.”

Wendy watches him walk right past the printer, where the report is sitting on the tray, and grits her teeth. It’s humiliating, but she needs this job, needs it because she’s had so much trouble keeping a job and those student loans aren’t going to disappear - and her rent is due at the end of the month regardless of how able to pay it she is. She stands up, smoothing her dress pants down as she does so (she still gets crap for refusing to wear a skirt, somehow) and walks to the printer. As she picks up the report and gives it a once-over just to make sure it's printed out properly, something itches at the back of her mind, and she gets a flash of vertigo.  _ Probably just tired, _ she thinks.  _ I'll grab a cup of coffee once I drop these off. _

The report feels heavy in her hand, and some instinct makes her pause to flip through the pages just to make sure. A small metal badge in the shape of a bag of ice falls out, and Wendy's brow furrows in confusion at how it got there before she slides it into her pocket and the incident vanishes from her mind entirely. 

Jefferson's office door is closed, and Wendy knocks tentatively on the door before a gruff "come in" draws her forward and she sets the report down on the desk. "Sorry again for the delay," Wendy says, feeling another jolt of shame. 

There's an almost fatherly smile on Jefferson's face as he nods in satisfaction. "Thank you, Miss Courderoy. I hope this incident has taught you something."

Wendy nods gratefully and turns to leave the office. As her hand touches the doorknob, she feels time seemingly stretch and warp. Her head feels like it's about to split open and she takes a second to steady herself against the wall before continuing on her way to the break room for some coffee. She hopes the addition of caffeine will help to fend off the headache and keep it from getting any worse. Wendy opens the cabinet where the aspirin is, grabs a few packets, and starts in surprise. There's a note taped to the interior of the cabinet door which reads:

_ You know there's more to this. Keep the talisman on you. -MP _

The small badge suddenly burns cold in her pocket. Wendy wraps her fingers around it and feels the world shudder out of focus. 

_ Dipper looks worried. "I've never dealt with one of these before." _

_ "Hey, it'll be fine." Wendy says, chucking him on the shoulder. "You're Dipper Pines! Besides, how bad can it be?" _

_ "It's a class five reality warper, Wendy! I'm good, but…" _

Wendy jumps in surprise, startled out of a daydream that’s already evaporating into nothingness. Mister Jefferson is staring at her with a look teetering between patient and annoyed. She shakes her head to clear it. 

"Sorry Mister Jefferson, I've got a real bad headache. What was it you needed?"

"The projections for next month. I need you to have them on my desk before lunch. Is that clear?"

Wendy nods. "Yeah, of course! I'm just waiting on confirmation from Darla on the numbers I got from her. They don't seem right to me."

Jefferson nods. "Not right in what way?"

"I'll show you." Wendy pulls up the spreadsheet on her monitor and turns it so Jefferson has a better view. "These seem a little low to me. There's being cautious, and there's whatever this is. None of the other data supports it." She gestures to one of the columns and the numbers seem to swim in front of her. She shakes her head again. Maybe she should get glasses, she thinks. 

There's an impressed look on her boss' face. "Hmm, you might be on to something there, Courderoy. Good eye." Wendy feels a flash of pride as he continues, "Wait as long as you can for Darla, but if you don't hear back in time just give me the report as-is and mark the numbers as needing more investigation."

"Can do, Mister Jefferson. I'll have this to you by lunch." As the words leave Wendy's mouth they echo strangely in her ears. The numbers on the spreadsheet rearrange into words. 

_ The exit is in Jefferson's office. _

_ -MP _

It flashes by so quickly she almost dismisses the incident entirely, but there’s a prodding from somewhere in the back of her mind. She’s  _ forgetting _ something, she’s just not sure what. Then the phone rings and it’s Darla with an explanation about the numbers and whatever thought Wendy has goes out of her head entirely. She makes some adjustments to the spreadsheet, saves it, and hits print, feeling satisfied with herself. Jefferson seems like he’s impressed by Wendy’s initiative, which bodes well for her. Wendy thinks that if she can find one more opportunity to show initiative, she might be able to get an actual raise. It would be nice, she thinks, to earn a little more. Take some of the pressure off of her that she feels every month looking back and forth from her bank account to her remaining bills gives her. 

Wendy grabs the report off the printer tray and walks confidently in the direction of Jefferson’s office before she slows down. There’s an itch in the back of her mind again and she pauses, trying to figure out what it could be. Something in her pocket feels cold and she reaches down to see what it is. A medallion in the shape of a bag of ice burns cold against her hand. The world shudders out of focus.

_ “Dipper! Are you okay?” Wendy shouts and swings her axe (blunt side first, for now) at the howling cultist charging her, sending her sprawling to the ground. Dipper’s on the ground next to her, picking himself up from the blow he’d just taken. _

_ “Yeah, I’m fine. Just hold them off a little longer and I’ll have this counterspell ready! Two minutes!” He’s got a piece of chalk in his hand and is scrawling symbols furiously on the ground, muttering words under his breath in another language. _

_ Wendy turns her focus back to the cultists in front of her. “Two minutes, huh?” She mutters under her breath. “No problem. Wendy Courdery, professional ass-kicker, at your service.” _

_ “Alright, form an orderly line,” she says, louder, “who wants a taste of this axe first?” _

_ Bravado doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on the fanatical. It  _ does,  _ however, give her the extra boost of confidence she needs to let out a war whoop and start swinging. She’s having such a good time with it that she doesn’t see the danger until it’s too late. Whatever Dipper’s doing must have gotten something’s attention because suddenly she’s sinking into the floor. She feels a surge of panic, and shouts a warning to Dipper, before- _

Wendy jumps in surprise, startled out of a daydream that’s already evaporating into nothingness. Her head’s pounding and she can barely see straight. She groans and rubs her temples, trying to quiet her mind. 

There’s a familiar voice nearby. “Long night, Wendy?”

She looks up and sees… someone. He’s broad, with a square jaw and a face she can’t quite make out - the headache is so bad her eyes refuse to focus. She hears herself say “fuck you, Pines,” which triggers something in her mind. Dipper. Dipper Pines. Her best friend. Her partner. She doesn’t work in an office. She punches monsters on a professional basis. This isn’t real. It’s gotta be…

Her headache disappears, and her vision clears. Dipper is nowhere to be seen, but Wendy’s pretty sure he wasn’t real anyway - just her brain summoning something up to jolt her out of whatever hold had been on her. Now that she knows, she stands up and marches with purpose to Mister Jefferson’s office.

Mister Jefferson looks up in surprise from his desk as Wendy enters. “Miss Courderoy! How can I help you?”

Wendy smiles politely. “The exit. I’d like you to show it to me.”

Jefferson seems confused. “I’m sorry, Miss Courderoy, but I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Yes you do. You know, because you’re not a real person. You’re some extension of whatever the hell it is that ate me.” Wendy leans forward, reaching into her pocket. The medallion is no longer a medallion, and is instead a familiar knuckleduster. Her fingers slide into it easily, and she reaches across the desk to grab Jefferson by the collar and pull him out of his chair and over the desk.

“Now I’ll be honest,” Wendy drawls, “I’m not  _ entirely _ sure if you can feel pain. But I guess we’re going to find out together, aren’t we?”

“Miss Courderoy!” Jefferson splutters, “I don’t know what this is about, but I will be contacting the police about this! Your job here is finished!”

“Yeah,” Wendy says, bringing her fist back, “you’re absolutely right. I  _ am _ finished here.” Her fist connects solidly with Jefferson’s face, then sinks into it with a squelching sound as the runes on the knuckleduster flare to life. 

The thing that was Jefferson howls and pulls back. A look of fury is on its face, melting like a candle. “You… are an  _ insssssect _ . A crawwwwwling wooooorm.”

“Correction,” Wendy says, pulling back for another strike, “I’m Wendy  _ fucking _ Courderoy.” 

This blow causes Jefferson’s head to lose its shape entirely, and it splatters across the office, which is looking less and less like an office. The entire place seems to be melting, in fact, which is a cause for some concern. Wendy looks around for some kind of exit, and doesn’t see one. There’s a mounting sense of panic as she tries to remember what Dipper had told her about exiting pocket realities. Is she supposed to just let it collapse? But why had the message from, she assumes, Dipper that had reached her specified the office as the exit point? She’s missing something, she has to be.

The ceiling of the rapidly-deteriorating office collapses. Wendy dives out of the way to avoid the majority of it, and looks up to see the exit. Or at least, she sees what looks like a tunnel, and if the alternative is to get sucked into whatever the hell the office is melting into, well, the decision isn’t terribly hard. What  _ is _ hard is figuring out how the hell she’s supposed to get up there. 

_ Too bad I don’t have a grapple gun _ , she thinks, shortly before a rope snakes down and slaps her in the face. Wendy isn’t sure what the hell is going on, but she’s gotten used to going with the flow in situations like this, so she shrugs and starts climbing before she sinks too deeply into the sludge of a decomposing false reality.

The climb is torturous. It feels like her arms are about to fall off. It also feels like the rope is significantly longer than she remembers it being. Time and space, she assumes, are starting to get weird. Doubtless Dipper has some kind of explanation, but the rope is still there, and she’s  _ fairly _ certain it’s real, so she keeps climbing. For all she knows, she climbs for a day. Or maybe it’s just fifteen minutes? She bumps her head on something, which is new. 

“What the hell?” Wendy dangles from the rope, and sees… nothing. There’s nothing above her, but the rope is still there, impossibly dangling from nothing. “This place sucks.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Wendy says, floating next to herself. “Maybe you should give up. Fall into the void.”

Wendy nearly loses her grip on the rope. “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, me?” The other Wendy shrugs. “I’m you. Well, more accurately I’m your replacement. Like, you give up and fall into the void, and I’ll pop up there, betray your friend, and re-open the portal to siphon more of my power out. Then I'll drain your world of its energy, see about causing complete entropic decay of your universe, and hitch a ride out on some poor bastard in another dimension in a millennia or two. You know, pretty basic stuff.”

Wendy absorbs this information. “Gotta admit, I’m surprised you just laid it all out there.”

“Yeah, well, I’m  _ you _ , remember? You never really had patience for subterfuge.”

“True.” Wendy says, swinging her legs to gain a little momentum. “Hey, if you’re me, does that mean you know-”

“That you’re desperate to get out of here because you want to see Dipper again, that you think the fact that a mental projection of Dipper got you this far made you realize you’re in love with him, or that you’re planning to take a swing at me?” Other Wendy counts off on her fingers.

Wendy’s fist flies through the air and connects solidly with her doppleganger. The runes on the knuckleduster flare again and the other Wendy shrieks and explodes in a blaze of light. 

“God, that was embarrassing.” Wendy mutters, and swings at the nothing blocking her way. Her hand connects with, unexpectedly, another hand, and she’s yanked upwards and into blinding fluorescent light. She flops on the ground somewhat like a fish, and thinks about whether or not she wants to know where she is now. 

There’s a familiar voice from somewhere above her. “Wendy! You okay? I thought I’d lost you!”

“That you, Pines?” Wendy’s eyes flutter open. Dipper’s concerned face looms over her, and she can’t stop the grin from spreading across her features. “Hey there, Dip. Is this real?”

“I hope so.” Dipper says. “The counterspell took just after you disappeared. I was worried I’d sealed you off too.”

“Why didn’t it?” Wendy asks. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I was… well,  _ somewhere _ that wasn’t here, anyway. I think it’s wherever the thing was they were trying to summon.” She pauses. “Actually, I think I met it.”

Dipper’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really? What happened?”

Wendy thinks about the conversation she’d had with herself and decides not to get too far into it. “I punched it in the face. But seriously, how did I get out if you sealed the portal?”

There’s a guilty look on Dipper’s face. “Yeah, about that… I kind of re-opened it.”

Wendy shoots upward. “You did  _ what _ ?”

“I didn’t want to lose you.” Dipper says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Besides, it’s not wide open like they wanted to do. This was only big enough for-”

“For someone my size.” Wendy says, feeling a sudden realization. “Shit. We need to close that now.”

“Too late.” The other Wendy says, already halfway out of the portal. 

Dipper swears and shouts a word of command. There’s another flash of light and an otherworldly shriek. Wendy stares in horror at her own severed torso on the floor, leaking a dark fluid that isn’t blood, but sure bears some similarities to it. 

“Fuck.” Wendy says, after a moment, and then adds, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Dipper seems to be fighting back the urge to vomit. “Yeah. Good idea.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Pines,” Wendy says as they climb the stairs out of the basement, “I appreciate you not leaving me to die in some weird hell dimension, but that was  _ incredibly _ dangerous.”

“Yeah.” Dipper says, then hesitates before saying, “I just… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The statement hangs in the air between the two, and Wendy takes a minute to process the statement. She knows what Dipper’s saying-but-not-saying, knows that this is about as good of a time to tell Dipper how she’s come to feel about him as any. Knows that if she does, it opens the door to something completely new and uniquely terrifying in a way severed torsos of dark clones couldn’t hope to match. She’s not sure that it’s the right time or place. Maybe later, she thinks, so instead she just says, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears I can't help myself. 
> 
> I hope the few people still knocking about this particular tag enjoy it. Leave a comment, or a kudo, or just pass silently in the night and know that I know what you've done, and I'm _judging you for it_.
> 
> Which is to say I appreciate you reading it, in spite of it all.


	5. The Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper gets some information from an unusual source. Wendy discovers something about humanity, makes a deal, and then a reckless decision.
> 
> It all kind of works out.

Wendy sees the end of existence a year and a half into her partnership with Dipper. There's a howling void bearing down on her, and the world is dead -  _ beyond _ dead, like some level of oblivion that she didn't know could exist. It's dark on a level which she assumes is beyond absence of light, it's more like anathema to the concept of light itself. She stares into it, right into the eye of it (or where the eye would be if it had not annihilated the concept of eyes entirely) and feels her mind struggle to keep itself together as the end seeks to fill cracks in her psyche and dominate her. Dipper's hand is tight in hers and he squeezes it reassuringly, grounding her as the empty void stares back.

"We don't have to stay." He says. "Just say the word and I'll pull us back."

"No, we need this dude’s help, right? And we have to come here to get it?”

Dipper frowns, clearly unhappy. “Yeah, this is the only place you can find them. They’re… unique.”

Wendy finally tears her gaze from the void and focuses on the blasted landscape. “If they live out here, I can imagine.”

That makes Dipper laugh, but there’s an edge of tension to it that Wendy does not fail to notice. “Yeah, I try not to come out here more than absolutely necessary.” He pauses, looking around a little and chewing his lip. “Look, I should be honest here: I’ve… never brought anyone here before. My other assistants wouldn’t… I mean, there’s no way they could-”

Wendy nods. “But I’ve seen… well, I won’t say I’ve seen  _ worse _ , but I’ve seen pretty fuckin’ bad before.”

“Pretty much. Also… I’m not sure how they’ll react to a new person here.”

“Could’ve mentioned that sooner, Pines.”

“I didn’t  _ think _ about it before now!" Dipper says with an embarrassed expression on his face. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"If you say so." Wendy replies, some hesitation in her voice. Her eyes flick up to the void in the sky and then back to Dipper's face. "So where the hell-” 

She doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence as a sudden howl splits the sky. Wendy is immediately in a defensive stance, looking around for the source of the noise. The source, as it turns out, is easily identifiable as a dark, compact humanoid form which seems to have appeared in the sky above the void and is now plummeting in their direction. She immediately shoves Dipper out of the way and catches the figure as it lands, uses its momentum to throw it away from them. There’s a rush of adrenaline that rushes through her body at the impact, like fire in her veins. She grins in spite of herself, all dread from the void above banished.

The figure executes a flip through the air and lands in a crouch, giving Wendy a good look at it. It’s immediately apparent that it’s not human. It’s got a chitinous skin that catches whatever light the void didn’t already devour - or perhaps there’s some light emanating from the void itself. The eyes are wide, yellow with burning red pupils. A grin splits its face, revealing fangs and a lolling black tongue. It snarls and Wendy readies herself to take its charge.

“Woah, hold on!” Dipper shouts, hands raised. “It’s me!”

The creature immediately straightens up, its attacking posture forgotten. “Tha’ brings a partner in with ye, eh? New developments. Signs and wonders.”

Wendy looks over at Dipper in surprise. “This… this is who we came here for?”

Dipper looks uncomfortable and nods. “Yes, let me introduce you. Wendy, this is-”

He doesn’t get to finish, because as soon as the name is out of his mouth the creature begins to cackle with delight. “Ah,  _ tha’s  _ the Wendy-named maid? Plot’s lie clear, all is.” They scuttle forward light lightning and seize Wendy’s hand, which they begin shaking enthusiastically. “A gross honor ‘tis, this one’s The Dark Consumes Creation Three Times Over, tha can me as Threes kennen.”

The part of Wendy that’s no longer surprised by much kicks in and she nods. “Nice to meet you, uh, Threes.” Then she parses the rest of what Threes said and cocks her head to one side. “What do you mean, ‘a great honor?’”

“Us have much heard on thee, Wendy maid. Pines has many tales us told, thy fights and bashings, oh aye. In trade we him much info give, that he’s useful found.”

Wendy raises an eyebrow and gives Dipper a significant look. Dipper shrugs, a little helplessly, in response. “What can I say? You’ve been in some impressive fights recently. Threes likes stories about fights.”

“Fights as well, I enjoy!” Threes pipes up, with a gleam in his eye. “Thee I’d love a spar with, when tha’s to the idea amenable.”

“We can talk about that later.” Dipper says, a little hastily, just as Wendy’s about to agree. “Information first.” He pulls his notebook out of his pocket and flips to a sketch he’s drawn of the symbol the two found on their first trip. Dipper’s been quietly worrying about who was behind the portal attempt that doomed their first client for ages, but it wasn’t until recently that they found a copy of the symbol in another house with a similar problem - fortunately for them (and the owner) they’d been able to save everyone this time. 

Threes’ eyes widen in something that looks vaguely like delight, although Wendy’s honestly not sure that they don’t just always seem delighted. “A naughty rascal, an empty-headed lout, tha’s found. Where works for in, wonders me.”

Wendy is thoroughly unimpressed by this initial salvo of information, and opens her mouth to say so, but Dipper shoots her a look that she knows means  _ just wait _ , and so she does. Threes turns the symbol around, looking at it from different angles, cackling all the while as they do so. They finally produce a small knife from a pouch on their side and begin drawing in the dirt, talking as they do so.

“Fasly drawn, was this, though the problem’s not with the information given was. The making of it, there the issue is. Ya have luck, corrupted signs have corrupted results. Tha wishes this halted, find I rightly?” At Dipper’s nod, Threes continues drawing. “This the right symbol, here. Thy empty-headed lout, he’ll pop right through when rightly called.”

At this point Wendy can’t keep herself quiet anymore. “That’s the exact opposite of what we want to happen.”

“Ah, the Wendy maid’s got the wrong of it. Man must bring him, so man can him kill. Elsewise there’s no halting what’s underways.”

“What’s his name? How do we kill him?”

Threes gets a mischievous look. “Thass cost it extra, oh aye young hexer. That tha knows. We wish a tiny combat with the Wendy maid.”

Dipper shoots Wendy a look. “She’s not a bargaining chip, Threes. The same as normal.”

“The young hexer needs more than normal. And aye were so full of politeness in the askin’.”

“Deal.” Wendy says, ignoring Dipper’s surprised look. “No magic?”

This makes Threes cackle delightedly. “All’s magic this close ta Void, Wendy maid! Tha’s noticed, hast tha not? A pull on thy flame.” Their voice lowers and becomes almost hypnotic. “Thy flame’ll burn all, Wendy maid. Threes knows thy spirit well.”

Curiosity crosses Wendy’s face. “I don’t understand what you mean. What flame? What spirit?”

“Battle makes all clear.” Threes says, flashing their fangs. “Worry not, our limits we know - no harm’s your way coming.”

“Wendy…” Dipper says, concern in his voice.

“It’ll be okay, Pines.” Wendy says, shucking the jacket she’s wearing to give herself more movement. “I trust them.”

“A mistake tha makes,” Threes says, “but all’s mistaken here.  _ Fang an _ , Wendy maid!”

That’s as much warning as Wendy gets before Threes charges in with a shout and a whoop, fist flying in the direction of her face. Another spike of adrenaline runs through Wendy’s veins and she meets them head-on, bringing her right arm up to knock their fist out of the way, her left jabbing low to catch Threes in their abdomen. There’s a thud of impact and Wendy feels  _ something  _ go through her body. Threes exhales sharply as their breath is driven from them and the force of the blow pushes them back. They smile wide. 

“Tha hast it felt, aye? Thy flame.”

Wendy nods, though she isn’t sure precisely what she’s feeling at the moment. “I think so?”

“Good!” Threes says, and straightens to their full height, looming over Wendy. “Now can we rightfully go at it.”

Threes moves so quickly that Wendy’s caught completely off-guard. This time she’s the one to get a fist to the gut, and she doubles over, the breath leaving her in a rush. She feels like she’s about to throw up. Threes raises their arms and brings them down in a vicious blow. Wendy, however, has the presence of mind to roll out of the way and the blow only catches her on the side. She grunts and gets back to her feet.

There’s a look of disappointment on Threes’ face. “The fault’s mine, Wendy maid. I thought tha’d a bit stronger be.”

Wendy feels a flare of anger. “Oh no, Threes. We’re just getting started.” She straightens up and cracks her knuckles. “Now I know what you’re working with.”

Threes’ eyes flash with excitement. “Oh? The Wendy Maid’s got fight in her still, has she? Delightful!”

They dash in again, but Wendy’s ready this time. Much like her first encounter, she catches Threes as they lunge, but this time Threes is  _ also _ ready, and doesn’t allow her to throw them. Instead, they grapple her and bring them both down into a heap on the ground. The two roll across the ground, trading blows. The more Wendy fights, the more she feels something flaring to life under her skin. Something thrumming in her veins, and suddenly, she’s moving faster, her punches have something extra behind them. Threes reels back from the blows, though if Wendy wasn’t so caught up in exploring this new feeling she would notice they also never seem to take any damage to speak of.

What Wendy does notice, eventually, is that whenever Threes lands a blow on her, there’s a rush of power through her veins. It’s like something in her is responding to Threes, being drawn out of dormancy. It’s a feeling like she’s never known before, and before she knows quite what’s happening she’s letting out whoops as the two fight, grinning like a madwoman the whole time. She feels like she could fight forever, and with a shout of joy she lands a blow right on Threes’ face. There’s a flare of light, blindingly bright, and this time Threes goes  _ flying _ , lands in a heap and rolls along the ground. Wendy stands there stupidly, dizzied by the flash, wondering what the shit just happened, and then - quietly and without fuss - she crumples to the ground, unconscious.

When she comes to, the void is still above her, and she can catch a muttered conversation between Threes and Dipper.

“-’s on tha to tell she, not I.”

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? As soon as you saw her.” Dipper sounds angrier than Wendy’s ever heard him.

“She’s the  _ right _ .” Threes hisses back. “Tha had decided, she to bring.  _ All humans _ have the flame, young hexer: Such flame’s thy lone chance, the dunderheaded one to defeat. Charms and trinkets will not take tha wide enough. Tha  _ needs _ her, empty-noggin.”

“Hey,” Wendy asks, in an intimidating tone of voice slightly undercut by a groan, “what the fuck?”

Both Threes and Dipper exchange a guilty look.

“I’m sorry,” Dipper says, “I didn’t think this would come up.”

“Didn’t think  _ what _ would come up?”

“This place,” Dipper says, indicating the surrounding environment, “has some sort of… effect on humans. What Threes calls ‘the flame’ is like… your spirit, soul, ki, whatever.”

“It’s thy  _ humanity _ .” Threes corrects, fussily. “Humanity is all flame inside, ye burn bright and hot and  _ brief _ , and ‘tis all to some. The Void has hunger for it, draws it out. Enhances ye, by thy lights.”

“Yes, but according to Threes it’s not actually an enhancement - it’s more like what we could always do, but forgot about.” Dipper says, looking over at Threes for confirmation. “Or something about our world blocks it.”

Wendy nods, half understanding, maybe. “Something about our world? So humans…”

“Are kind of everywhere, yeah.” Dipper finishes for her. “But I kinda knew that already. Ford told stories of meeting other humans while he was lost.”

“Ah, but those with corpses that remember can forget no longer.” Threes chimes in. “Tha’s now remembered, as with the young hexer.”

This statement catches Wendy by surprise, and she looks over at Dipper in surprise. Dipper shrugs. “It’s how I’m able to do all the magic I do. It’s also how I enchanted those brass knuckles of yours.”

“So all the equipment we’ve been lugging around is just for show?” Wendy takes a menacing step in Dipper’s direction. “That shit’s  _ heavy _ , Pines!”

Dipper holds up his hands defensively. “No, not at all! The equipment serves as a focus and an amplifier. Reduces the strain on me.”

“The strain?” Wendy shifts from anger to concern so quickly that she almost gives herself whiplash. “What do you mean?”

“Flame burns bright, Wendy maid.” Threes says, as if it should be obvious. “Uses fuel. Tha kennst so - ‘tis why tha napped.”

Wendy processes this for a minute. “Okay, so you’re saying that being here and fighting you made my punches… magic?”

Threes looks at her blankly, then turns to Dipper, who shrugs, then turns back to Wendy. “Oversimpled, but tha’s got right, more or less.”

“Huh.” Wendy says, thinking about what that means. “That sounds… pretty cool, actually.”

“It’s not without risk.” Dipper cuts in, because of course there’s a catch, Wendy thinks sourly. “You passed out because you spent too much too fast. You’ll need to be careful to control it, or you could be out for even longer next time.”

“Train you, can I!” Threes butts in almost immediately. “The Wendy maid’s flame is  _ particularly  _ bright, an honor to teach her it would be, finds I.”

Dipper steps in, and his protectiveness makes Wendy grin in spite of her annoyance with him for not telling her any of this in the first place. “Don’t agree to anything just yet, Wen’. Threes planned to draw your power out as soon as they saw you. They’re liable to ask for something in return.”

“That true, Threes?” Wendy says, turning her gaze on the creature, who hasn’t stopped grinning in spite of Dipper’s warnings. “Is there a price for your training?”

“Aye, clear there’s a cost to all, Wendy maid.”

“Name it.” Wendy says, unafraid.

Threes cackles. “My kind’s not got humanity’s fire, but we enjoy the sight - and we can use it, atimes, if we’ve a source. To collect some of the Wendy maid’s flame, t’would make sufficient price.”

Dipper doesn’t seem to like the sound of that at all, but before he can voice his protest, Wendy nods. “Get me ready to fight this empty-headed lout of yours, and you’ve got a deal.”

Threes darts forward and claps her hand. There’s another, smaller flare this time - a jet black flame the color of the Void. “So said and so made! We train tomorrow, Wendy maid.”

Dipper mutters a spell and transports the two of them back home. They pop into existence in Wendy’s apartment, appearing in the circle Dipper drew on the floor what feels like days ago. Dipper speaks up immediately.

“You shouldn’t have taken that deal, Wendy. Threes isn’t necessarily  _ safe _ .”

“Will they keep their word?” Wendy says. “Hold up their end of the deal?”

“Yes,” Dipper says, “but that doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt.”

Wendy smiles, and chucks Dipper under the chin. “Hey, I’m a big girl, Pines. I can handle a weird little alien man.”

Dipper sighs, and takes her hands in his. “Look, I just don’t want anything to happen to you because I brought you over there. I just…” He looks uncertain in a way Wendy hasn’t seen in a while.

“You just what?”

Dipper takes a deep breath and seems to compose himself. “Nevermind.”

Wendy knows, of course. She knows how Dipper’s mind works, knows he’ll never forgive himself if something happens to her. Knows that he cares about her deeply, in a way that she’s never quite sure she can believe she deserves.

She draws him in close. Dipper tenses in surprise at first, before relaxing. “Hey, it’ll be okay Pines. I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but we’re a pretty fucking good team. If something starts to go wrong, we’ll handle it together. Just like we always do. Then we’ll find whoever this… empty-headed lout is, and ruin his day.”

Dipper grins up at her. “You’re not bad at this whole motivational speech thing, Corduroy.” He moves to step back, but Wendy keeps a hold of him. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Pines. And it’s nice knowing you’ve got my back.”

“Always.” Dipper says, with a shrug, like it’s nothing.

Maybe that’s what does it. Maybe it’s the fact that Dipper doesn’t even seem to consider his promise to be a big deal, like  _ obviously _ he’s going to stick by Wendy no matter what, because she’s his partner and friend and that’s just the facts. Like his offer to take her on as his partner a year and a half ago didn’t save Wendy’s life. 

Or maybe it’s none of those things, and it’s just that Wendy’s so fucking sick of dancing around it, and if she can willingly jump into an agreement with a weird alien who lives at the end of existence, she can fucking well kiss this man in front of her that she loves, has loved for longer than she realizes. So she does, and it’s everything and nothing like what she thought it would be.

The next morning, Threes greets her with a knowing grin, and she tells them to mind their own goddamn business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to pretend this chapter wasn't borne largely out of reading through Kill Six Billion Demons' archive again. But hey, I figured why not seed some ideas should I get the itch to build some kind of narrative arc? Oh, and grant these two idiots some resolution. At least a little bit of it, anyway.
> 
> I don't often immediately fall in love with characters I write, but as soon as I got the idea for Threes I was positively delighted by them. Their speech pattern, believe it or not, follows some kind of grammatical rules, as do some of their stranger phrasings. Kind of a pain in the ass to write, but I love them all the same. 
> 
> It's very late and I need to go to sleep, so uh, leave a comment if there's any sentences that don't make any fucking sense - provided they aren't something Threes said. Thanks for reading!


	6. The Tale of Threes and Dipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy gets the answer to a question she's been thinking about, and a little more than that. Threes makes a deal and pays a price slightly higher than they'd planned. 
> 
> Dipper pays a price for knowledge.

“How did you meet Dipper?” Wendy asks a day into her training with Threes. She’s covered in sweat and breathing hard after another sparring session, during which Threes seemingly did their best to kill her.

Threes does what they generally do any time Wendy asks a question, which is cackle unnervingly. “Tha hast curiosity over our meeting, doest tha?”

Wendy nods. After their first trip, Dipper’s warning that Threes isn’t necessarily  _ safe _ had been forgotten in their rush to deal with the last several years of repressed sexual tension. Earlier that morning, however, Wendy had thought to ask Dipper a few questions about Threes and been… unsatisfied with his answers. 

“They don’t give anything away for free,” he’d said, “I know from experience.”

“What price did  _ you _ have to pay?” Wendy had asked, curious. “They said you’d trained with them.”

Dipper had looked away uncomfortably. “It’s... complicated.”

Wendy hadn’t pressed him on the question, merely assured him that she would be careful and then headed off to train. Now, however, staring into Threes’ glowing eyes as they cackle delightedly, she wonders if she can find out.

“Well, hear tha our first meeting’s tale on, Wendy maid, that thou better us understands can.” There’s a definite twinkle in their eyes as they add, “and it is very liked tha’ll understand thy young hexer better also. First, will we speak of a cost?”

Wendy frowns. “I’ve nothing more of value to offer. You’re already getting some of my flame.”

This gives Threes pause. “Tha thinkst thy flame is all? Tha’s wise, along with powerful, aye.” They think for a moment. “A favor, then. We wish thy world to once more see.”

Wendy picks up on it immediately. “Once more?”

“Aye.” Threes says, and there’s something like a note of longing in their voice. “Long ago, as we much younger were. Thy world were we to see permitted. Such light…”

“What does it take,” Wendy asks, “to see my world?”

“Power.” Threes says. “A barrier erected, us to prevent. These lands from thine severed were, that our kin and us away sealed are. But tha,” and now a hand reaches out to Wendy, brushes her hand almost reverently, “has power enough to bring us with.”

_ Who  _ am _ I? _ Wendy thinks, and then thinks,  _ If Threes comes through, can Dipper contain them? _ Instead of saying any of that, she crosses her arms and draws herself up to her full height. She feels as if she’s playing some role, like she’s wandered into a ritual pre-ordained. When she speaks, there’s an almost imperious tone to her voice. “Dipper warned me you’re not safe. You’ve just said the way for your kind is blocked. What assurance do I have of your intentions, should I consent to this exchange?”

Threes’ expression is hard to read, though they too seem unconsciously caught in a ritual. “No word given from our kind should be trusted,” they say, and folding their arms across their chest they genuflect, a supplicant seeking an audience, “save one.” They look up and the color vanishes from their eyes, devoured by a void. 

When they speak again, their voice echoes strangely and light itself flees. Wendy feels the tug of what she knows now is her own flame as it flares in answer. “The Dark Consumes Creation Three Times Over here binds themself, by Void’s Black and Humanity’s Twinned Flame, in service to the Wendy maid, the Cold Flame that Consumes All. A pact so said, and so made.”

Wendy isn’t entirely conscious of doing it, but she’s stepped forward and extended her hand. She runs it down the side of Three’s face in a gesture of possession, looks directly into their twinned-void eyes, and hears her voice echo, “So said and so made.”

There’s a rush of wind, and suddenly the two are surrounded by black flame shot through with white and blue, a firestorm that rises in a column to the skies. For a moment, the Void above seems to  _ crack _ , flooding the area in white light, and the column of flame spirals upwards into it. There’s a roaring sound that gutters away into nothing. The light dies out, and Wendy feels exhausted, like she’s just run a marathon. There’s a pain in her wrist, and when she looks down at her wrist she sees a mark, a stylized three seared into her skin. Threes tries to rise, but instead stumbles back into a sitting position, breathing hard. Their eyes are back to normal color, but they’re wide and staring, and Wendy thinks they almost look afraid.

“What hast tha made?” They say, though whether they’re asking the question of Wendy or themself is unclear. Threes rubs at their wrist, where a stylized iceberg is etched into their chitinous exterior. “Tha must us bringwith, now. Our fates bound are, till bargain’s fulfilled.”

Wendy isn’t sure what the fuck just happened, but she knows that Threes is right - knows it instinctively, the way that she knows how to breathe. They are tied to her by something older and more powerful than them, maybe older and more powerful than the Void itself. 

“You first,” she says, joining Threes on the ground, “how’d you and Dipper meet?”

A realization seems to hit Threes, that they’ve been snared by something so much greater than they expected just for a  _ story _ , and their cackling echoes in that desolate and empty land. “The story, aye, that tha wished to know. Ha! Then hear me well on, Wendy maid, and Threes’ll tell the tale.”

_ Dipper is investigating with an old partner of his -  _ his  _ name is not important, because Threes never met him, never bothered to remember it. This nameless partner stumbles across a circle on the floor. He’s got a cut from a broken window on his hand, which seals Dipper’s fate: blood drips on the chalk lines and provides just enough of a spark to kickstart the ritual. Dipper, in typical Dipper fashion ( _ “yon hexer is always apt for heroics,” Threes editorializes _ ), shoves his assistant out of the circle, but in doing so fails to get out himself before the spell ticks over and suddenly, he’s in the blasted, ruined wreckage of Threes’ domain. He spends a few minutes gawping at the Void above, maybe feels the faint flares of panic - who could say for sure but Dipper himself - and then produces a notebook and begins leafing through it.  _

_ The whole time, Threes has their eyes on him - they feel the shudder of his arrival in the ground’s bones. This is their kingdom, the corner wrested from the others and bound to their share of the Void. _

“Wait, your share of the Void? You’re…”

“A creature of the Void, aye, Threes watched the Void devour all creation more than once. Our kin and us, the Heralds are.”

Wendy recoils. “You’re  _ what _ ?”

“Heralds, were we once. The Void birthed us, say the tales, thus served we the Void. Threes uncovered the truth of the matter. Ruined our service, ruined all Void’s plans, we did.”

Wendy takes this in, understanding very little of it. “But then why-”

“Another tale, ‘tis. Another time for it - another deal made for it, veil’s light. Tha wished the young hexer’s story to know.”

_ It’s not until Threes notices Dipper has begun to sketch a gate on the ground that they decide to introduce themselves. Dipper, understandably, is unnerved - he flashes a defensive ward which Threes pretends is effective just to get him to calm down a bit. Threes is  _ very _ curious about how Dipper came to their world, as their world’s not meant to be a easy to access.  _

_ Dipper explains what he found, and Threes is surprised. Threes also realizes just  _ which _ land Dipper must be from, and begins to think there has to be a way to get the young traveler a leg up - to wake his flame (and maybe keep a bit of it, it has been so long since Threes saw humanity’s flame, since they bathed in its warmth). There’s a hunger for it, so they make an offer to help - for a price. To get the young traveler home, of course, he’ll need more powerful magic than what brought him here. The door goes both ways, but it’s  _ stickier _ this side, meant to keep things out - and for one such as Threes, it’s impossible.What Threes  _ can _ do, however, is teach the necessary words and signs he’ll need to get back home again. _

_ Dipper is still wary, and reluctant to agree to any bargain - but Threes swears on the Void above and that seems to satisfy him that they are, at least, not lying when they say no harm will come to him.  _

“Like you swore earlier?” Wendy asks, to clarify.

“Nay,” Threes says, shaking their head, “to make a similar promise t’was my intent, yet not the act as it passed. Something else binds thee and us.”

“What, exactly?”

“Kennen us not. Old powers at play are oft’ unpredictable.” Threes shrugs in a fatalistic gesture. “Soon discovered, find I.”

_ It becomes clear, once Threes starts explaining things, that Dipper has a talent for spellcasting. Threes almost becomes nostalgic as they run him through a series of simple exercises meant to get his body to remember its flame. Meditation, some light combat,  _ (“Light combat? Why the hell did Dipper get  _ light _ combat?” “Hush thy gob, Wendy maid. Tha’s a fighter, thy Dipper’s a thinker. Approach is flexible, result’s fast the same.”)  _ practice drawing signs (both in air and on surfaces), and speaking words unheard for centuries - all to focus the flame and use its power.  _

_ The process takes two days - Threes has to pause lessons to go find food suitable for human consumption (no small feat), though water is still in abundance. It does not keep Dipper well fed, but Threes likes to think the hunger helps him focus. Which it actually might, because Dipper takes to spellcasting like some kind of aquatic creature to water. When the time comes for Dipper to leave, there’s just the matter of holding up his end of the bargain. _

At this point, Threes shoots Wendy a guilty look. “His bargain’s not the same as thine - hungry for the flame, were we, and altruism’s no place in our domain, but after so long to see it was enough.”

“So what did he give instead?” Wendy asks, feeling pretty sure she won’t enjoy the answer but she needs to know. She’s worried about Dipper, she realizes; in spite of their paranormal-hunting life being something that makes her actually feel like what she does matters, she knows its taken a lot from him, left him with more than his fair share of scars and nightmares. Threes is dangerous - unquestionably dangerous, by their own cheery admission - and while Wendy certainly understands this, she’s not sure just what this creature is capable of beyond combat skills and unnatural strength. More to the point, now that the two of them are  _ bound _ in some contract, she needs a better grip on her situation.

Threes definitely knows this, and is reluctant to speak, but eventually they mutter, “A bargain made….”

_ The only thing Threes hungers for more than humanity’s flame is the sight of Dipper’s world - but Dipper doesn’t have the necessary power to get them there, so they take the next best thing. Dipper tells a story about Gravity Falls. It’s one of their smaller adventures - barely worth remembering, he thinks, which is a good thing because when he finishes the story, Threes has devoured the memory entirely. He stops talking, and frowns - he was going to tell a story, wasn’t he? What story was it, again? Threes stops him before he starts to tell another tale, clarifies that he’s already held up his end of the bargain. Which causes Dipper to panic, because why can’t he remember telling the story? Why, in fact, can he not remember the story at all? _

_ Threes is a little surprised by Dipper’s reaction - they thought Dipper knew what he’d agreed to when they asked him to give them a memory of his home.  _ Give _ , not tell, not loan - a sacrifice of memory is what Threes wants, the only way they can experience Dipper’s world even for a little while. The memory doesn’t stick for Threes, of course. They can tell the story back to Dipper, fill him in, but the vividness of the image fades with time, and eventually all that’s left is Dipper’s memory of the memory. He doesn’t talk to Threes after that - just begins mechanically crafting the spell circle. Threes feels like they should leave, but they stubbornly stay to make sure Dipper gets back home safe and sound - a bargain is, after all, a bargain. Dipper’s talent, however, is precisely as good as Threes suspects, and in short order the magic circle he’s sketched on the ground flares and he begins to fade away. _

_ Which is when Threes shouts that Dipper is welcome to come back and exchange information again, or refine his spellcasting more, should he wish. There’s no reaction from him, and Threes is left alone, with only the fast-fading memory of what Gravity Falls looked like to keep them company.  _

Wendy’s quiet for a long time after Threes finishes their story. They fidget uncomfortably, rubbing at the mark on their wrist, looking strangely forlorn, like a dog that’s been yelled at. There’s a question in Wendy’s mind that she doesn’t want to ask, but she has to.

“How many times has he made that deal?”

Threes answers immediately. “Five. We’ve… changed execution, a bit. Give it back, as best we can, though all’s not perfection. Some stays with us, for always. The images, but not the feelings. The lesson learned by the young hexer - limits placed must he. Deals are dangerous - atimes for all, atimes for one, but dangerous always.”

“The memories he’s given you,” Wendy says, “is that how you know me?”

“Nay,” Threes says, almost soothingly, “His memories of you shine too precious to him. Not for trade, them. Others, some bad, some good, he’s given. Most good.”

“Why do you still take them?” Wendy asks, with a sort of desperation in her voice. “Why not give information freely?”

“Naught’s free, Wendy maid.” Threes says, and there’s a terrible sadness in their voice. “Deals keep us alive. Keep our mind sharp, lest we lose all. In our nature, it is, throughout.”

“Well then,” Wendy says, standing up and squaring her shoulders, “time for me to hold up my end of our deals, then.” She holds her hand out and concentrates, the way Threes taught her to, and a pale blue flame flickers around her hand. 

Threes cocks an eyebrow, confused, then, in spite of their seemingly dour mood, cackles madly. “Ah, Wendy maid, tha’st no attention paid. The young hexer, our deal misunderstood - the execution of it. Tha’s the same.”

Now it’s Wendy’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Some of thy flame, tha agreed to give, and freely so.” Threes says, standing. “Tha asked not the delivery method. Clear, we’ll make it - a lesson learned, and we’ll not the advantage take for it.” They advance slowly on Wendy, stepping close. They bend down, hold up a hand, and wait for Wendy’s nod of assent before placing it over her heart. Their eyes close. “Ah, flame’s throne.”

Threes takes a deep breath, and Wendy feels her flame flare to life in her chest. Threes makes a gesture and brings their face in close as a gout of blue fire exits through Wendy’s mouth and travels into theirs. Wendy feels colder, suddenly, and the world seems darker. Her legs give out and she stumbles forward. Threes catches her and guides her to the ground with an unexpected gentleness, given they’d been gleefully throwing her to the ground most of the day. 

“Easy there, Wendy maid.” Threes says, soft and careful, “Thy flame extinguishes not so easily. Rest a moment, thy young hexer should arrive in short.”

Wendy feels like she’s in a fog. Like she felt some days in Portland, before Dipper pulled her back into the paranormal world. She stays on the ground, staring up into the Void, and doesn’t feel much of anything. The wild animal fear that gripped her the first time she saw the Void is nowhere to be found. Threes has arranged their legs to serve as a sort of pillow, and some detached part of Wendy thinks that they’re being surprisingly nice for having devoured her humanity. The thought is absurd, and a small chuckle escapes her but it trails off and she loses track of the amusement that drove it. 

Dipper appears in her field of vision an indeterminable amount of time later, and the sight of him gives her a warm jolt in her chest. Threes cackles at that. “See? Tha recovers already. Young hexer’s more magic than just spells, find I.”

Wendy sits up and kisses Dipper, then, feels the flame inside her flare a little more, feels a little more like herself. He looks at her with a small grin, like the world couldn’t possibly get better. “Miss me?”

Wendy kisses him again, just a quick peck this time, and smiles. “Maybe a little, Pines.”

Threes looks at the two and grins unnaturally wide. “Wendy maid, tha first bargain fulfilled, for today. The second…” they give Wendy a long look, and continue, “comes later. Explain to the young hexer when you return.”

“A second?” Dipper says, his curiosity immediately roused.

Wendy thinks about having to explain to Dipper that she’d basically gone around his back to find out what the deal between him and Threes is. About how this is so soon after they’d just moved to a new level of intimacy that she both craves and is terrified of fucking up like she’s fucked up so very many times before. She forces herself to smile, and throws the arm with the mark around Dipper’s shoulder, hiding it from sight. “Long story,” she says, “but once we’re back home, I’ll fill you in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we finally did it we got to the point where I am _completely_ on my bullshit and we're going to journey through these continuity-infested lands for one more chapter at least. 
> 
> Because I mean come on you think I'm gonna just gloss over Threes' adventures on Earth? It will be like Baby's Day Out, except with a chitinous eldritch horror who is going to be _very_ excited about what food tastes like and possibly fashion as well. Oh, and I guess Wendy and Dipper will have some kind of conversation about all this. Maybe it will even go well! But that's a tale for another time, because it is very late and I've got work in the morning.
> 
> Until next time, thanks for the comments, thanks for the kudos, thanks for just reading the damn thing. Feel free to click on my name and discover all the other absolute fucking nonsense I've written on this site - I have been told it is "okay" or even "mildly entertaining."


	7. Visions and Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy apologizes and has a vision. Dipper helps Wendy uphold her bargain. Threes remembers.

Dipper has always been easy to read - Wendy knew about his crush on her when they were young way before he said anything to her, for example - but just this once she wishes he wasn’t. He’s angry with her, but he’s also deeply worried about her, and the combination of the two things rolling off him in waves are making the apartment feel stifling. She feels conflicted about it too - on the one hand, she wishes that he weren’t angry at her (even though she knows exactly why he would be), but on the other hand, it’s at least nice that he’s not pretending that everything’s fine in the way that he used to. 

“Look,” Wendy says, finally, because she can’t stand it anymore, “I should have respected your privacy. I just… I wanted to know, and I saw an opportunity to find out so I took it. I didn’t think it through.”

“No,” Dipper replies, his voice tight. “You didn’t think it through.” At Wendy’s wounded expression, he relents, a little. “I would’ve told you eventually,” he finally says, “but it’s… it’s hard to talk about. I mean, I sacrifice memories in order to gain power. How would I explain to Mabel that I can’t remember parts of our childhood because I gave them away? What kind of person am I if I make that exchange?” There’s a haunted look in his eyes and Wendy finally understands the full extent of what Dipper’s been carrying around the whole time - the full weight of what he’s been giving Threes in exchange for the knowledge and skills needed to combat these incursions they’ve been investigating.

She wraps her arms around Dipper, runs a hand through his hair and feels more than hears the sob that escapes him. “It makes you the sort of person willing to sacrifice everything if it means keeping others safe.” she whispers comfortingly in his ear. Dipper lets out another sob, and Wendy feels his arms wrap around her. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore, you know? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dipper clings to Wendy like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Which at the moment might be true, for all she knows. She holds him close, lets him use her for support as long as he needs; feeling like it’s the least she can do. Eventually, Dipper stops shaking and steps back. 

“I’m sorry.” Wendy says again, and then, “I can call this thing with Threes off, if you want.”

That gets a laugh from Dipper that carries a grim undertone. “No, you really can’t.” he says. “That mark on your wrist is… it means you and them are bound together. Irrevocably so, until you fulfil your bargain. If you tried to back out… if you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain…” he hesitates.

“What?” Wendy says, trying very hard to keep the edge of worry out of her voice. “What happens?”

Dipper sighs. “The mark grows. It grows, and grows, and eventually - if you leave it too long - it consumes you entirely.”

“That sounds… bad.” Wendy says, slowly. “Being consumed sounds like something to avoid.”

“Yeah.” Dipper says. “So in spite of how much I’d rather not have Threes run around here, because I don’t trust them any further than I can throw them, I’ll help you bring them over.”

Something makes Wendy speak up in Threes’ defense. “I think we can trust them.” she says, and wonders if it’s because she’s bound to them. “They let something slip when we talked about you - I think they were responsible for some kind of rebellion, or something.”

That gets Dipper’s attention. “A rebellion? Against what?”

“The Void itself, I think.” Wendy says. “They said they were… a herald of the Void, and then they found some secret about their origin, so they started fighting against the Void, somehow. It’s apparently why they knew you’d arrived when they found you; that area is under their...control, or protection, or something.”

“I’m impressed, Courderoy.” There’s a grin on Dipper’s face which almost makes Wendy forget he was a sobbing wreck a moment ago. “I’ve been trying to find out about Threes’ history for  _ years _ , and you got hints out of them almost immediately. They must like you.”

“Honestly, I think they were just shaken by what happened.” Wendy says.

Dipper gives her a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“The whole brand thing.” Wendy clarifies. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. They meant to make the same promise they made to you, but… something else happened. It was like we were caught up in the echo of some other pact.”

“Hmm…” Dipper’s brow furrows and Wendy can tell he’s thinking of potential explanations, running through stories he’s heard in his mind. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything like  _ that  _ before.”

Wendy grins, and pushes her luck a little with a joke. “A mystery, huh? Don’t say I never got you anything nice, Pines.”

“Yeah well, in the future maybe keep mysteries unrelated to things that are happening to you specifically.” says Dipper. Wendy thinks her joke didn’t quite land, but he grins and chucks her shoulder, a mirror of a move Wendy’s done a million times. “It’ll just save me a little worry, is all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Wendy says. “Speaking of putting myself into danger, do you need any help with… whatever the hell it is we’re doing?”

“Not yet - once we get over to Threes’ world, I’ll need your help to power the spell bringing them over, though.” Dipper rubs his chin, thinking, “Though… with that mark, maybe it won’t take much at all.”

Wendy rubs at her wrist unconsciously, fingers tracing the brand. The sounds of the apartment and Dipper’s chatter fade, and suddenly, she’s somewhere else - somewhere she doesn’t recognize, but is positive she’s been before. A hallway of stone, windows letting sunlight stream into the castle. 

_ She’s late for an audience - not that a queen can ever be said to be late, of course - which she’d impulsively granted to a ragged soothsayer who’d revealed himself to her court the previous afternoon, shouting desperately that the Kingdom was at risk, and she needed to hear what he had to say. Instead of having him executed on the spot, the Queen had decided to find out just what the hell he thought was so important it merited risking immediate execution. That she suspects this soothsayer was never in any danger of that and knew it when he arrived is a thought she does not dwell upon. That the Queen’s dreams have been dark of late, and the reports from outside the bounds of her kingdom are equally dark, is something she keeps to herself. _

_ The soothsayer is lounging with his feet up on Her Royal Highness’ desk, and seems far too comfortable for someone who is about to speak with the Queen. When the door opens, he does at least have the good sense to move his feet to the floor, though he does not stand and bow as decorum recommends. Instead, he gives only a small incline of his head as acknowledgement of her presence, and says, “Your Highness is late.” _

_ “It is the Queen’s prerogative to arrive when we deem it necessary.” the Queen snaps, already feeling like she’s made a mistake. “Explain yourself, soothsayer, and perhaps we can be convinced to overlook your complete lack of manners.” _

_ This seems to amuse the soothsayer immensely. “Ah, of course. The Queen Gwyndoline’s patience, they say, is matched only by her beauty and her skill in combat. At least two of those is true, I suppose.” _

_ There’s a flash as Queen Gwyndoline draws her blade and holds it at the soothsayer’s throat. “Do not mistake our patience for foolishness, soothsayer. Explain. Your. Presence.” _

_ A slight widening of the soothsayer’s eyes is the only sign that he’s taken off guard. “Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I fear that years wandering the wilds have reduced my manners somewhat. I am called Pinwydd, and I have come here because it is unlikely that the world will survive the coming darkness without your aid.” _

_ In spite of the warmth of the day, Gwyndoline feels a chill run over her, but her sword stays at the soothsayer’s throat. “And what, master Pinwydd, is the nature of this darkness?” _

_ “Nothing less than an all consuming Void, Highness. Brought into our realm through the greed and shortsightedness of a group seeking power. They believe it will give them the keys to the kingdom. What they will get is a ruin, and that’s assuming they aren’t swallowed up with the rest of these lands.” _

_ Queen Gwyndoline does not know why she trusts what Pinwydd says, but she does. She sheathes her sword and stands tall. “What can we do?” _

_ Pinwydd shrugs. “We can fight, my Queen. But I cannot guarantee victory. The time for that is long past.” _

_ “We never required guarantees.” Gwyndoline says. “Swear to us only that you will do all in your power to stop this.” _

_ Pinwydd holds his hand out and, and the Queen grasps it. “A bargain so said, and so made, your Highness.” _

“-dy? Hey!” Dipper’s shaking Wendy’s shoulder. “Wake up!”

Wendy shakes her head and looks up at Dipper with fire in her eyes. “I will not lose my kingdom to these fiends!” she shouts, then shakes her head in confusion. “Dipper? What…?”

Dipper is immensely confused, and gives her a long look. “You passed out.” he finally says, a little hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

Wendy rubs her eyes, trying to clear her vision. “I was…” she shakes her head again. “somewhere else. A castle. I was a  _ queen _ , I think. There was…” frowns, passes her hand over her face, “no, it’s all fading now. I don’t know.”

Dipper’s concern is plain on his face. “The sooner we fulfil your bargain and get that mark off your wrist, the better.” he says, decisively. “I’ll finish this portal and we’ll go immediately.”

Wendy can only manage a nod. She stands, swaying slightly, and walks to the fridge to get something to drink. She doesn’t like what’s happening to her - first she and Threes are caught up in the echo of something or other, and now she’s having  _ visions _ or  _ memories  _ of… who knows what. The past? Some other world? Some other version of herself? 

It’s a relief when Dipper calls her over to hop through the portal, because it’s a distraction from her own thoroughly jumbled thoughts. She hops into the circle and feels what is now becoming a familiar jolt as she’s pulled through the veil between worlds.

It doesn’t take long for Threes to appear, once she and Dipper arrive in a flash of magic. They’re dressed differently - wearing a long cloak and hood, and a strange-looking flask hangs on their hip. Dipper seems to know what it’s for, because as soon as he sees it, he points at it angrily. 

“No, Threes.” he says firmly. “That’s not coming over.”

Threes adopts a sort of apologetic, almost subservient mien. “Ah, but young hexer, tha wouldst not us powerless bring through, wouldst tha?”

“I would.” Dipper says, firmly, “If the choice is between having to protect you myself and risking  _ that _ .”

“What is it?” Wendy asks, curious.

“A void flask.” Dipper says, glaring at Threes accusingly. “That’s what it is, right?”

“Aye, tha has right, young hexer. A void flask, for our powers the void require.” Threes is still adopting a subservient posture but their gaze is on Wendy now. “Our bargain did not forbid self-protection, though it allowed it not either. Thy choice, ‘tis: to allow Threes their security, or to trust thy young hexer is up to the task of protection.”

“Why is it my choice?” Wendy says. “Why is it not your choice?”

“The vow was by  _ us _ made.” Threes says, forcefully. “ _ Our  _ fate with thine intertwined is - not thine with ours. We are to  _ thee _ bound. So was our bargain: thy service entered by us. Thinkst tha’ we’d prefer not in such a position to be?”

“Wendy,” Dipper says, quietly, sounding a little resigned “they’re right. It’s the nature of these things. You make the choice - but beware, a void flask brings the Void into our world.”

“Fill the void flask.” Wendy says. “I want to see what I’d be allowing through.”

Dipper makes a noncommittal noise, but doesn’t interfere. Threes nods, withdraws the flask from its belt, and unscrews the top of it. They mutter something in an unintelligible tongue and there’s a groan from the sky above. A whirlwind of nothing touches down on the flask, and swiftly gutters and dissipates. Threes screws the top back on, and the flask’s surface pulses with black runes. 

“A few spells could we cast with this, but no more. The void consumed is - becomes  _ something  _ and cannot void any longer be.” explains Threes, casting a glance over at Dipper, who nods as if to confirm they aren’t lying. “True though, thy young hexer’s worries are. A crack in the flask leaks the void to thy world, gives a foothold to that which no foothold should have.”

“Dipper, what dangers to Threes are there in our world?” asks Wendy.

“Honestly? As long as we keep a low profile, not many.” answers Dipper. “Although… Threes’ nature as a creature of the Void might draw things to them. We could find ourselves in a fight, though if we stay away from any thin spots we should be okay.”

“Threes,” Wendy says, and feels something stir again, “you gave your word no harm would come to my world. Can you keep that word, if the flask comes over?”

Threes hesitates. There’s reluctance in their eyes, but they take the flask off and set it to the side. “Such a guarantee can we never make. With fist and claw, we’ll ourselves defend - should danger come our direction.”

“You will be a guest of my world.” Wendy says, straightening up, and though she doesn’t know it, a blue flame flickers in her eyes. “I will destroy any who dares raise a hand against you.”

Dipper steps forward and places a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “Uh, Wendy? You okay?”

Wendy starts a little at the contact, and the flame in her eyes disappears. “Huh? Yeah, Dipper, I’m good.” She turns her attention back to Threes. “Are you ready?”

“Years untold we’ve waited,” Threes says in reply, “ready we were centuries ago. The circle - these modifications must yon hexer make.” They sketch symbols quickly into the dirt.

Dipper looks them over, and nods. “Simple enough.” he says, and turns to Wendy. “I’ll uh, need some of your flame to power this when it’s ready.”

Threes paces back and forth, impatient to be off. Wendy watches them closely, trying to figure out what the hell she’s going to do with them once they’re through. Take them to a park? Dipper’s mapped most of the thin spots near her neighborhood, so it should be easy to keep them out of trouble, although… how do you cover up what Threes  _ is? _ Something she should probably have considered sooner, she thinks, though Dipper doesn’t seem overly concerned with it (or perhaps he’s not put thought into the matter either). 

“Wendy?” Dipper’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “It’s time.”

Threes stands in the center of the circle. Dipper joins him, and gestures for Wendy to do the same. She steps in and feels a tug on her flame. 

“Uh, so what now?” she asks, feeling a little foolish.

“You know how to produce your flame - channel it through your hands and touch the lines.” Dipper explains. “It’ll pull you and I through immediately, but you’ll need to keep channeling to pull Threes in after us. Got it?”

Wendy nods, kneels, and puts her hands on two of the lines criss-crossing the circle. She feels the tug on her flame grow stronger and lets it flow out through her hands, into the ground - into the fabric of this world. She feels herself pass through and appear back home, but this time there’s a tether to Threes’ realm, and she grabs the tether,  _ pulls _ , feels her power flare up in response, feels a cold, cold that burns, and she wants to stop but she knows Threes isn’t through yet, and she grits her teeth and keeps pulling. 

Her arms begin to burn, and there’s a noise of alarm from Dipper that she ignores. She reaches deep down and gives a final almighty yank which is accompanied by a shout of exertion. There’s a whump, and a shockwave sends her flying backwards into the wall with a thud. Dipper’s by her side immediately, looking her over with concern and something else in his eyes that looks like admiration.

“That was a hell of a performance, Courderoy.” he says, smiling with relief. 

“Threes?” Wendy says, curiously, not noticing that she appears to be steaming. “You there?”

There’s no response, and Wendy looks around Dipper to catch sight of their new guest. Threes appears struck dumb by their surroundings, and looks around. A ray of sunlight streams through the window, and with an almost shaking gait - far from the normally confident and sinuous movements Wendy’s used to seeing from Threes - they approach the patch of light. They slowly extend a hand into the light, and the sun glints off of their carapace. Their eyes shut and they drop to their knees. 

“Ah,” they say, voice choked with emotion, “forgotten, had we, the warmth of a sun.” Threes turns to look back at Wendy and Dipper, eyes shining with tears, and this is the moment where Wendy notices their eyes are different - the yellow and red is gone, replaced by green with flecks of brown, or is it brown with flecks of green? “Out from under the Void are we, so long after-” Threes makes a noise then, half-laughter, half-sobbing, and begins to weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy _this_ got away with me. A couple ideas had to be addressed, so I ended up chasing down those ideas, and then I got to the end and was like "oh this needs to end there, huh?" rather than writing a whole chapter of Threes digging through dumpsters and experiencing the world and being generally delighted by everything. 
> 
> _That's_ for next chapter. Which maybe won't take quite as long as this one but no promises.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and commenting, and leaving kudos and telling your friends and whatnot. See you next time!


	8. Roadtrip? Roadtrip.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threes begins their adventure on earth. Wendy provides gifts. Dipper provides transport. The picture becomes a little clearer.

Neither Wendy nor Dipper is quite sure what to do. Threes hasn’t moved from their position on the floor, sobbing inconsolably. Wendy makes the first move, approaching them cautiously and placing a hand on their shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“Er, hey there, Threes? You uh, you okay there?” she said, a little hesitant, ready to pull back at the first sign of discomfort (and maybe a little worried Threes might have lost their mind and go for her throat or something). 

Threes’ breath hitches a little at the contact, but then they seem to relax, and one hand comes up to give Wendy’s wrist a little squeeze of acknowledgement. The sobs subside, and they scrub a hand across their eyes. “Apologies,” they say, their voice gone a little raw, “unprepared, were we, for the untainted light again. Yon hexer’s memories did not prepare us.” They take a deep breath and seem to steady themselves. They slowly stand up, and Wendy lets her hand fall off their shoulder. They bow low to her, then turn and bow low to Dipper. “Our thanks to time’s ending, tha hast.”

“A bargain made must be honored.” Wendy says, and winks at them. “Besides, Dipper says this mark would devour me if I didn’t help you.”

Threes cackles in delight. “Aye, true enough, true enough. Ourselves indebted all the same, consider us. Our mind clears out from under the Void’s glare, a bit, and we remember.”

“Remember?” Dipper asks, curious. “What do you remember?”

Threes’ eyes flash, and they grin wide. “The way the light looked at home. The play of shadows in the old forest.” Their voice grows quiet, and their grin softens into something sad and wistful. “Things long devoured, ne’er to be again seen.”

Wendy feels a wave of pity for Threes so strong she finds herself wiping a tear away quickly before someone notices. “Well,” she says, brightly, “hopefully this isn’t too dissimilar. We can take you to a forest too, if you’d like.”

If the delighted look in Threes’ eyes is any indication, they are a fan of the idea. Dipper takes a look at Threes and rubs his chin thoughtfully. 

“Wendy, you think Threes would fit into one of your jackets?”

Wendy sizes them up. Threes is taller than she is, but it’s mostly in their legs - their torso is about the same size, and while their arms are gangly things, they aren’t actually  _ that _ much longer than hers. She shrugs. “Maybe. You might need something a little more drastic than a jacket to avoid suspicion though, right?”

“Huh?” Dipper seems confused for a second. “Oh, you mean - yeah, of course. I just thought they might want to wear some clothes that are a little less… conspicuous.”

Threes looks at their cloak, and shrugs. “Concealment was our goal, but if tha finds it conspicuous…”

“Cloaks aren’t… super-common these days.” Wendy explains. “If it were raining, it would be less uncommon, but with the weather being as nice as it is…”

“Thy judgment we’ll trust.” Threes shrugs out of their cloak, folds it with a surprising amount of care, and places it on Wendy’s couch. Their head tilts expectantly at Wendy, who takes this as her cue to go find a jacket. 

When she comes back with a somewhat abused jacket she’d picked up in an army surplus store, she finds Dipper muttering something with a hand pressed to Threes’ chest. There’s a muted flash and when Wendy’s eyes readjust, Threes doesn’t look like Threes anymore. Their shining exoskeleton is now merely dark skin, and their wide, sharp-toothed mouth is now a little less-wide. Their face hasn’t lost its angular tones, but there’s a softness to it now. When they spot Wendy and smile, however, she can see their teeth are still sharp.

“Huh.” Wendy says, and tosses them the jacket. “Impressive.” 

“Sometimes it’s useful to be able to conceal myself.” Dipper says with a shrug. “I wasn’t actually sure it would work, honestly.”

“Not so different, our physiology is.” Threes says then, and smiles unnervingly. “A slight illusion’s enough and more than that.”

“That’s reassuring.” Wendy says, throwing a look Dipper’s way. “So, where to first, Threes? What would you like to see?”

“Trees, tha mentioned.” Threes replies, eyes bright. “Show us some trees on, if tha’s prepared.”

“It’ll take some time to get there,” Wendy says, “but we can make a road trip of it, if you’re up for it.”

Threes seems entirely amenable to the proposition, so Wendy grabs the keys to Dipper’s van from their spot on the table and the group heads downstairs and out into the bright light of the morning. Threes shields their eyes and Dipper, without missing a beat, hands them a pair of sunglasses and they slip them on. Wendy notices the illusion seems to actually have some physicality to it, as the glasses sit on the human ears and nose Threes definitely doesn’t have. Threes grins again, and Wendy wonders if she should tell them not to smile so much, as their teeth still seem far sharper than a human’s should.

When Threes catches sight of the van, they cackle with delight. “Ah, this we’ve not before seen. A curious vessel for us.”

“You’ve never seen a van before?”

Threes shakes their head. “Automobiles existed not in our world, before the fall. Other worlds also had them not - though one had ships that fled at our coming through the sky, though it saved them not.” Their voice softens, and they speak quietly. “Long were they hunted, to eternity’s end, and they fell as all else fell.” 

There’s sorrow in their voice, and Wendy wonders just how much Threes has seen. What other civilizations were consumed in those other worlds? How long had they existed in thrall to the Void? She resists the urge to ask, because some part of her thinks Threes has probably earned some kind of peace. Dipper seems to think the same, because apart from a curious look on his face he doesn’t react to the statement at all, instead opening the side doors to the van.

Threes immediately clambers in and begins looking around the interior curiously. The van is not made to carry many passengers - most of the space is taken up by shelves bolted to the walls and longboxes where Dipper keeps various pieces of equipment, but the bench (which folds down into a bed) is still there. Not that Threes sits down there, of course - they instead immediately begin opening up the various cases to look at what’s inside.

“Hey!” Dipper says, sounding a little worried, “Careful with that stuff!”

Threes looks back over their shoulder and grins wide. “Fret not, young hexer! Familiar with thy kit, we are. Tha’s no need for worry.” They pop the telescoping staff Dipper uses for sealing portals and cackle with delight. Wendy finds herself laughing at the sight. It reminds her of something she can’t place.

_ “Your majesty, could you please be more careful with those?” Pinwydd’s voice carries a note of concern.  _

_ Queen Gwyndolyn spins the wizard’s staff around expertly and raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Do you suspect that we are not familiar with the tools of a wizard’s trade, Pinwydd? We have conducted our own study of magic in our youth, you know.” There’s something flirtatious in her smile that the wizard does not fail to notice. _

_ “Of course, your majesty is doubtless an expert. I merely wish to caution against being too familiar with such things.” Pressing his luck, Pinwydd steps in close. “What  _ would _ the people say if they saw their queen associating with such dangerous powers, I wonder?” _

_ There’s a predatory chuckle from the queen, and she steps yet closer. “Ah yes, the Queen being taken advantage of by a charlatan from the woods. A shame,” she says, her lips hovering close to his, “that our people know better than to question their queen’s judgment.” _

_ It is everything and nothing like she hoped it would be. _

“Enough, Wendy-maid!” Threes’ hand is on Wendy’s shoulder, and they’re whispering low. “Tha must caution exercise, lest tha thyself lose.”

Wendy shakes her head. The van is moving - they’re on the interstate headed south. Dipper is up front, driving, and Wendy is, apparently, on the bench seat with Threes instead of the front. “What the hell was that?” she says, her voice also low.

“Our bond,” Threes says, “deeper running than it ought. Thee and we, something shared have. Tha must thy mind better master.”

“What am I seeing?” Wendy asks.

Threes is silent, and there’s a look of worry on their face. “Uncertain. Our nature… a mystery ‘tis. Less so, our history. A citizen, we were, of the land tha saw. More certainty is beyond us.”

“This… queen. And the wizard, soothsayer, whatever he is… is that…”

“Infinite worlds, there are,” Threes says with a shrug, “and across infinity live infinite souls, some close to thy nature, some further away. Thy vision is to them drawn, thinks us.”

Wendy looks up at Dipper, feels a surge of protectiveness. “They failed, didn’t they? The two I saw. They weren’t able to stop it.”

“Nay,” Threes says, “too late it was, for them. For us as well. But halted, the Void’s march was. For now.”

That’s new information to Wendy. “Halted?”

“The Heralds have its progress arrested.” Threes says, and there’s pride in their voice. “We have them in rebellion led, the Void chained, its power drained. Wardens, we are, so long as we last. To come here… ‘tis sweetness itself, an unsullied land to view.”

“If you’re…” Wendy starts to ask, but stops, because she’s not sure how to phrase what she wants to know.

“If we’re wardens, as we say, why then do we make deals, sup of thy flame, the young hexer’s memories devour?” Threes finishes the question, and Wendy isn’t sure if it’s because of their bond, or because the question was that obvious. “Told you once before, we did. The Void bears down upon us, drives us mad. Flame and memory are required, lest we lose what grasp we have. Those that lose all…” Threes trails off, and Wendy understands what’s being left unsaid. Those that lose all have to be hunted. Contained. Destroyed, if necessary. 

“How many are there?” She asks, finally.

“Long since we counted.” Threes replies. “Three thousand strong were we at our peak, when victory was grasped, but many have fallen since. Two thousands remain, perhaps, but no more.”

The van slows as Dipper pulls into a gas station, providing a welcome distraction. Wendy asks one final question. “Dipper… have you told him this?”

Threes shakes their head and grins, a conspiratorial gleam in their eyes. “Thee we tell, for we’ve a bond shared. And tha’s our old world seen. Our history thy’d see too, before day’s end. Better to hear it than see it, we finds. Perhaps tha’ll it easier find to stay out of our head now, aye?”

“I’ll try.” Wendy says, as the engine dies.

Dipper looks back at the two, grinning. “Hey Wendy, why don’t you show Threes the wonders modern convenience stores have to offer.”

Wendy’s grateful for the distraction - the conversation’s been heavy, and she feels like she owes Threes something for that. “What d’you say, Threes? When’s the last time you had something to eat that wasn’t like… dust and ashes?”

Threes perks up and scrambles out of the van, looking somewhat like an excited puppy. “Uncountably long, Wendy maid. Thy world’s delights we’d love to sample.”

The two head inside, leaving Dipper to gas up the van. Threes demonstrates no restraint as they explore the store with wide eyes, almost bouncing from shelf to shelf. “What delights hast tha shown us, Wendy maid? With what should we begin?”

The cashier is thoroughly unamused by this whirlwind of activity in his quiet, out of the way gas station. Wendy suspects he probably doesn’t see many people, much less weirdly enthusiastic people looking at a bag of Doritos like it might contain gold. She smiles at him and tries her level best to make it clear that neither she nor Threes is hopped up on amphetamines, Threes’ energetic movements to the contrary. 

“Well, it’s your first time here so…” Wendy looks around and grabs a bag of crullers, some nachos, salt and vinegar chips, an assortment of chocolate bars, and a few sodas. “A little bit of everything, I think.”

Threes follows at her heels as she approaches the cashier, who gives Threes a long look before deciding that, apparently, it’s more trouble than it’s worth to ask any questions. Instead he gives a nod and a muttered “Find everything?” that doesn’t actually expect a response and begins ringing up their purchases. 

Wendy knows this dance well and nods, but makes no other move to engage in conversation. Threes watches the two curiously, but then spots a bird hopping around outside the store door and darts after it. At the puzzled look of the cashier, Wendy shrugs.

“They’ve been uh, cooped up for a while.” she says by way of explanation, and the cashier nods, doesn’t seem invested in asking more questions. She pays and waves off the plastic bag, electing to gather everything up in her arms instead. 

Threes is sniffing the gasoline pump as Wendy approaches, peppering Dipper with questions as he cleans the van’s windows. “Tha burns dead things as fuel? Comical act. Horses we used still, when magic would not suffice.”

Dipper’s voice sounds surprised. “You used magic to travel?”

“Aye, young Hexer. Teleportation, atimes, else golems of wood and stone, the better to carry great loads, to build our castles.” Their voice lowers, and they take an almost reverent tone. “When armies against the Void fought, the ground they’d shake with footfalls, the better to besiege our foe. Ah, magic’s crackle in the air, the screams of the enemy as they routed were!” their voice grows even softer, more sorrowful. “Yet it was not enough. Fell, we did, as all else fell.”

Wendy shifts the food and drinks under her arm and places a hand on Threes’ shoulder as a gesture of comfort, which turns out to be a bad idea.

_ The Queen insists on fighting on foot, sword to sword - or in this case, sword to claw. The creatures the Void has already twisted to its purpose snarl and throw a black fire that sears the life away from those it hits. Gwyndolin, however, burns with a cold blue flame that overpowers all else, and cuts a swath across the battlefield, leaving corpses that smoke and burn away to nothingness in her wake. From atop an enormous spell-slinging golem, Pinwydd rains his own fire down, backing the Queen’s charge. When the sun rises, it is on a battlefield littered with smoking, ruined golems and dead, wounded, or just tired soldiers - the creatures of the Void have all long since disappeared - but the day is won.  _

_ Deep down, Gwyndolin knows it’s not enough - that it will never be enough, and the best she can hope for is to buy time for some kind of… evacuation, though to where and for what purpose, she’s no idea. Pinwydd is working on something, but he keeps saying that he can’t tell her what it is yet, because she’d stop him if she knew. She trusts him, of course, but she worries that he’s going to sacrifice himself and, selfishly, she doesn’t want to lose him - not when she’s lost so much else. He knows that too, of course, in the infuriating way that he seems able to read her like an open book. _

_ “Gwyn,” he says, one evening, rolling over from his position in bed to face her properly, “you know that I won’t leave you unless you tell me to, right?” _

_ “Then I suppose you shall never leave me,” the Queen responds, tracing patterns on his skin, “as I could never ask you to.” _

_ This seems to settle something for Pinwydd, set some part of his mind at ease. “Then, my Queen, perhaps it is time I explained what I’ve been working on.” _

This time Wendy catches herself, coming out of the memory to find she’s still outside the van with Threes, who gives her a warning look. “Careful now, Wendy-maid. Knowledge gained can in great damage result.”

“What do you mean?”

“We stand on the edge of awful knowing.” Threes says. “Our own past takes focus, and uncertain is our desire to know it. Tragedy atimes is best forgotten.”

Wendy isn’t sure she agrees, but she nods and resolves to keep her hands to herself. Dipper gives them both a quizzical look. “Everything okay?”

“Some unexpected effects to this uh, bond of ours.” Wendy says. “Like that vision I had earlier, remember? They uh, seem to happen when I come into contact with Threes now.”

Dipper doesn’t seem surprised. “Hmm. Threes mentioned that earlier. You were kind of spaced out near the van, but they said you would come out of it.”

Wendy looks over at Threes. “Is that so?”

“Thy care we’ve undertaken, Wendy-maid.” Threes says, looking offended and then ruining the effect by cackling. “Correct, were we not? A soul bond is for us a known phenomenon. Times before soul bonds we’d studied, aye, for…” their voice trails off, and they frown, looking puzzled, then shifts to something unreadable. “For reasons we wish not to remember.” 

Wendy almost reaches out in sympathy again before remembering that’s what’s been causing trouble to begin with and withdrawing her hand. Threes notices the gesture and smiles. 

“Tha’s too good a heart, Wendy-maid. But enough of old memories and terrors!” They throw open the doors of the van with a theatrical flourish. “Tha brings new foods and delights we’d dearly love to sample!”

Wendy is an expert in changing the subject to avoid uncomfortable topics, so she plays along and sets her purchases on the bench seat between herself and Threes. “Let’s start with savory, then we’ll move to something sweet.” she decides, opening the chips. “That’s always a good way to start.”

Dipper looks back from his position in the driver’s seat. “I hope you didn’t forget to pick something up for me while you were in there!” he calls, giving Wendy a look that treads the line between joking and  _ deadly _ serious.

Wendy grabs one of the sodas and a few of the candy bars and tosses them forward. “Relax Pines, I’ve got you covered.” 

“I knew I loved you for a reason.” Dipper says with a grin, catching the items with a practiced hand. “We’ve got another twenty minutes to go before we get there. More if there’s traffic, but it’s a weekday so we should be okay.”

Wendy is momentarily stunned to hear Dipper so easily say he loves her, but then she realizes that of course he fucking can, this is Dipper Pines, the kid who wore his heart on his sleeve from day one. Besides, they’d danced around it for so long, why shouldn’t he say it? Why shouldn’t she? Well, because she’s a Corduroy, and they go about these things a little differently. Affection is usually expressed through teasing. “Yeah yeah, Pines, you already got your soda. No need to go overboard.”

Fortunately Dipper knows what she means, and he grins. Threes grins too, but Wendy thinks that’s probably because they’ve just devoured a handful of chips and they’re having something which is probably close to a religious experience. They make a noise of pure delight, then bury their face in the bag, inhaling the rest of the contents noisily. 

Wendy laughs at the sight. “Easy there Threes, you might make yourself sick!”

“A suitable price, finds us.” Threes’ too-long tongue runs over their face, removing stray crumbs and salt. The illusion they’re wearing stays pristine, but Wendy feels the need to hunt down some napkins anyway and hand them over. Threes receives them with a quizzical look. “Clean already, is our face. Though the sentiment’s kind.”

“Don’t tell her I told you this, Threes,” Dipper calls back, knowing full well that Wendy can hear him, “but Wendy’s a softie.”

“That was already known to us.” Threes says, a little smugly. “Read her nature easily, have we.”

“I can’t believe you are ganging up on me like this.” Wendy says, a little theatrically. “After all I’ve done for you!”

Threes continues their exploration of the snacks Wendy purchased, and at one point seems so enamored of one of the candy bars that they start  _ singing _ , in a language Wendy doesn’t know but it makes her think of a drinking song. There’s such an unfettered delight in it that Wendy starts laughing, which only seems to spur Threes on and they sing at the top of their voice. At some point, though Wendy doesn’t realize it until Dipper points it out to her later, she starts singing along - note for note, word for word, in a dead language she does not and should not know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funny thing is that going into this I thought "okay this will wrap up Threes' visit nicely" and then I was however many words this is in and realized no, no it won't, there's going to have to be at least one more entry into this little saga. Mostly because I kept having more ideas about Threes. So there's that to look forward to as we all deal with these incredibly strange times we're living in. 
> 
> Because we're sticking so stubbornly to direct continuity instead of a loosely-linked set of one-shots with this thing, you can at least rest assured that there's definitely got to be one more entry sooner rather than later. I might also add to this the helpful statement that if you have the means and time to purchase and play Doom Eternal, it's a real fucking good time. Plus it has the sort of dumbass lore that you'd read in the liner notes of a concept metal album circa 1985, which is to say it is almost _exactly_ like the story of the Void and Threes and their ~*mysterious history*~, please imagine that I wiggled my fingers while saying so. I've got a whole history that I will not bother putting into the story itself because it's not relevant, but rest assured I have spent _way_ too much time thinking about this in the way that the guys writing the codex entries in Doom Eternal spent way too much time thinking about the narrative of a game whose primary mechanic is chainsawing demons in half so they spill candy-colored ammunition like a satanic pinata have.
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting as always! We'll see you next time! Wash your hands!


	9. A Blade and a Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to the mountains gets complicated. Threes finds something they'd forgotten and gives Wendy and Dipper a gift.

Threes spends a lot of the trip to the park being overwhelmed by its beauty. They walk along the trails singing the praises of the sun and the trees and the rocks too, and Wendy’s a little disappointed they came too late for there to still be snow where they are, because it’s entirely likely that the sight of snow might actually send Threes into some sort of state of endless rapture. There’s something else growing in Wendy’s mind, though - something she’ll talk to Dipper about later, when Threes has gone back to their world, after they’ve had a chance to catch their breath. After Threes’ parting gift.

For now, however, Wendy only frowns a little at the thought of sending Threes back and then realizes that Threes has shot, squirrel-like, into a tree. The thought flees and she laughs at the sight. “Having fun, Threes?”

“Long has it been since we were able to climb so.” Threes replies, swinging around the trunk with a flourish. “Trees do not thrive under the Void, but we were often among them before all changed.”

“My dad was a lumberjack.” Wendy offers, by way of conversation. “I spent a lot of time around trees myself.”

“An axe, had tha?” Threes asks, eyes bright. 

“Yeah, though I guess it ended up being used on uh, things that weren’t trees.” Wendy says, an image of an underground bunker and a shapeshifter flitting briefly through her mind. “Sometimes I think my dad knew about all this shit and just didn’t know how to, you know,  _ deal _ with the fact beyond making sure we were all survivalists.” she continues, not entirely certain why she feels the need to tell Threes all this. “When all the stuff with Bill Cypher went down… I was one of the only people who managed to stay alive and uncaptured.”

“Cypher? A flat falseteller, aye? Known to us, was he. Thy Dipper’s made us with his history well acquainted.”

“That’s not too surprising.” Wendy replies. “Kind of the first time he and I had to really work to save the world. Even though I almost killed him when he found me - didn’t realize it was him, you know?”

Something shifts in Threes’ eyes and they seem briefly distracted by something before their attention snaps back to Wendy and they grin. “True romance, aye?”

Wendy snorts. “Something like that, I guess.” Then she realizes what Threes just said, about being among trees. “Do you… do you remember who you were now?”

The look Threes sends her is pleading. “Clearer now than before, but all’s not for sharing, Wendy maid. Awful knowing, remembers tha?” 

There’s a hint of agitation in their voice that moves Wendy to pity, so she lets the matter drop and instead calls over to Dipper. “Hey, hurry up Pines! There’s more forest to see!”

Dipper looks back from where he’s been methodically cataloguing the positioning of several mundane-looking rocks just off the path. “Huh?” he says in the ‘I have found something interesting and am only half paying attention to my surroundings’ voice that he gets sometimes. “Oh, uh… go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“Something of interest, findest tha?” Threes scrambles back down the tree, their own curiosity piqued.

“These rocks.” Dipper says, and the way he says it makes Wendy snort a little with how dumb it sounds. “They shouldn’t be here.”

“I mean, it’s a mountain, Pines. Mountains have rocks on them. They’re kind of  _ made _ of rocks, right?” 

“Right, yeah, but not  _ these _ kinds of rocks.” Dipper says, still half-distracted. “Like… these are the wrong kind of rocks.”

“Dipper,” Wendy says, and she’s got a little annoyance in her tone, “a little more clarity, yeah?”

Dipper picks up on it and hastens to clarify. “Okay, so there’s a particular type of rock you see in this region. These rocks,” he gestures to the offending objects, “aren’t that. Look at the way they’ve been worn down - these are rocks you’d find in the ocean, or on an island beach or something.”

“Islands?” Threes speaks up, excitement in their voice. “Islands with oceans about? Long since we saw an ocean.”

“Unfortunately,” Wendy says with an apologetic look, “it’s a bit too far for us to get there in a day.”

Threes waves a dismissive hand and turns their attention to Dipper. “What brings ocean rocks to a mountain, wonders us? Tha’s found a riddle, young hexer.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Dipper replies. “They were brought here by someone - or something - for a purpose, but I don’t know of any spells or rituals that require ocean-smoothed stone.”

In response, Threes darts forward and grabs one of the rocks. They lift it up and inspect it closely, then extend a far-too-long tongue and give the rock an experimental lick. “Hmm… I think tha’s the wrong of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“All’s wrong with the flavor.” Threes says, as if that makes everything clear. “Not for a ritual, these stones.”

Dipper’s brow furrows in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. Look at their arrangement, their composition - if this isn’t a summoning circle… what  _ is  _ it?”

“Ah,” Threes says, and there’s an almost professorial swagger to them as they straighten up and walk around the stones with a smug grin on their face, “but ‘ _ tis  _ a summoning circle, sees tha’ not?  _ Feels _ tha’ not? The crackle in the air?”

Dipper extends a hand out over the center of the ring of stones and frowns. “You’re right. That means…” his expression shifts to one of understanding, then carefully controlled panic. “The stones came with it. Someone summoned a fucking Deep One in the fucking mountains.”

“A deep one?” Wendy said, her voice a little higher than usual. “The uh… what the fuck is a deep one? Like a Lovecraft thing?”

Dipper gets the look he always gets whenever Wendy brings up Lovecraft, which is to say he looks vaguely annoyed. “No, not like a Lovecraft thing. They’re just good for cheap labor and have enough magical ability to make them useful if you’re trying to pull off a larger spell. They’d be completely fine if they didn’t eat people - oh, and I guess if summoning them didn’t mean you’d left a thin spot that wasn’t there before and let me tell you, if you think  _ Deep Ones _ like the taste of people, you haven’t met some of the shit they share an environment with. Woof.” He pauses, brow wrinkled. “Whoever summoned this is a  _ complete _ fucking idiot.”

“You mean apart from because we’re going to hunt them down and beat their ass?” Wendy says, already starting to look for tracks.

“Well that too, but… Deep Ones are, well, from the  _ deep _ . They don’t do well in dry environments, and like… a mountain isn’t  _ dry _ , necessarily, but it’s a far cry from the beach.”

“I mean, mountains can be near beaches.” Wendy says, just to be difficult.

“Oh come on, you know what I mean.” Dipper huffs, and he turns to Threes. “Hey, how are you at following a trail of magical residue?”

Threes almost looks offended. “A tracker? Tha wills that we a tracker be?” They snort. “Tha can track well enough, finds us.” At Dipper’s surprised expression, they laugh. “Ah, very well. A favor for thee, young Hexer.” They sketch a series of symbols in the air almost lazily and look briefly surprised when nothing happens. Then they laugh. “Ah yes, forgotten, have we - no flame to fuel our spells.” 

Wendy again feels something tug at the back of her mind and steps forward. “Use mine.” she says, and holds a hand out that Threes regards for a moment, eyes sparkling, and then takes. There’s a small flash and Wendy presses back against the feeling that she’s about to  _ remember _ something, because Threes’ warning of awful knowing is still fresh in her mind. In spite of her efforts, however, she gets a brief flash of

_ “You can still back out.” Pinwydd says, calm exterior but eyes which beg her not to back out - as if she ever would or could. “The odds of success won’t change too much without you there, you could-” _

_ Gwyndoline kisses him, hard, and traces the line of his jaw with a finger. “No, my young hexer, I have made my choice. I am by your side through the end.” _

_ Pinwydd rolls his eyes at Gwyndoline’s reference to the three years between them to mask his relief. “Alright then, your Majesty. We’ve work to do.” _

the scene blurs, shifts, and now

_ Gwyndoline’s right hand is bound by cords of blazing fire to Pinwydd’s left and he’s holding a spellbook in his right hand. Gwyndoline’s free hand holds a sword, and the two are moving as a unit - spinning around as she hacks at the oncoming hordes that seek to breach the circle, the culmination of Pinwydd’s last-ditch effort, his plan to trap the Void once and for all- _

“There!” Threes says, giving Wendy a look that very clearly pleads for her to not ask. They gesture to what is a faint, glowing trail hanging in the air. “Haste, children! Spell’s not meant for long durations.”

Dipper’s delighted by the spell, though he sends a worried look Wendy’s way that suggests he definitely noticed whatever the hell just happened. “Race you?” he asks, in a transparent ploy to get Wendy to focus up.

It works, of course. Wendy’s competitive spirit won’t stand for it. “Pfft, not much of a  _ race _ , Pines. But su-”

She’s cut off by a gleeful whoop from Threes as they take off running. “Come then, sluggish ones! See if you can keep up with Threes on the hunt!”

Breaking into a grin of her own, Wendy chases after Threes, completely heedless of the danger they are no doubt heading into. After all, what’s a few Deep Ones against her and Dipper? Threes, certainly, seems to be enjoying the monster hunt if their cackling is any indication. The trail leads deeper into the forest (unsurprisingly, Wendy thinks) and gets brighter the closer they get to their quarry. Threes is so far ahead of Wendy and Dipper that by the time the two reach them (with Wendy in the lead, naturally) they’ve apparently had time to do a little scouting.

Threes hisses something in a low voice that sounds vaguely like  _ beware what can befall us! _ and holds a hand up in warning. They seem to catch themself, and whisper again. “Naught’s right here. Eyes must be wary, and ears should listen closely!” With a sharp motion of their hands, the trail disappears. 

Wendy raises an eyebrow at this shift in Threes’ manner. Perhaps, she thinks, it will not be as easy a fight as she thought it would be - which actually made her far more excited than worried. It’s not like she’s had time to really put any of the things she’s learned with Threes into practice - not that she’s had more than a few days to learn, but she’s got magic punches now and hasn’t really had the chance to use them yet.

Dipper frowns and has the worried look that Wendy’s come to know all too well on his face. “I just realized we don’t have any equipment.”

“Relax, Pines.” Wendy says, and grins again. “I can take ‘em. Whatever they are.”

“And thy Wendy maid’s our help as well.” Threes adds, placing a reassuring hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Though tha has powers also to draw upon. Ahead’s our quarry, though noiseome’s the sight.”

Threes leads the two forward into a clearing that Wendy smells before she sees. It’s an unpleasantly familiar smell - the smell of some poor bastard’s insides exposed to the air. Dipper smells it too and blanches. “Seems like someone didn’t know how to control what they summoned.” he remarks in a tone of voice that is trying very hard not to sound nervous.

“Seems like it.” Wendy mutters in response, only to be shushed by Threes. 

It is, as far as sights go, not the  _ most _ unpleasant thing Wendy’s ever seen, but she’d put it in the top fifteen at least - maybe even the top ten. There is a body - or at least, something that is recognizable as having  _ been _ a body at one point - mounted on a high tree. That would be a little unsettling, but it’s the way the things that are generally supposed to be  _ inside _ a body have been stuck on the various boughs like some kind of meat-centric Christmas tree that gives it the extra zest of something downright horrendous.

“Ah shit.” Dipper says, half to himself. “Those were placed with  _ intent _ . Our Deep One is looking to do something of its own.”

“Shit!” Wendy agrees, although not because she’s heard Dipper, more because she becomes suddenly and terribly aware they’ve walked into a trap. She spins around just in time to catch the blurred form of the Deep One mid-lunge and redirect its momentum, sending it stumbling past the group. 

That’s when Wendy should die, because a  _ second _ Deep One surges out of the ground at her feet and a clawed hand lashes out to open her throat - but that hand goes flying in the air, a trail of dark navy blood behind it, and Wendy’s eyes widen because Threes’ hands are holding a  _ sword _ , flickering with twinned white and blue flame at the edges, and their eyes are blazing and there’s a snarl on their face, a thunderous “Tha’ll touch her not!” reverberating loudly through the clearing. The Deep One turns, dead eyes and scales and  _ teeth _ , more teeth than Wendy thinks even Threes possesses, but its head leaves its body almost as quickly as its hand did, Threes spinning on their heel and bringing the sword around in a great sweeping arc that nearly takes Wendy’s head off. 

The other Deep One does not seem to notice its companion’s fate and hisses something in its gurgling tongue that sounds like a curse, if Wendy had to guess. Its hands begin to glow with a sickly green energy as it chants, and the corpse in the tree begins to twitch. Dipper’s eyes widen and he begins chanting what Wendy assumes is a counterspell. Wendy chances a look at Threes, who seems suddenly stricken by the sight of the sword in their hands, and figures that means it’s time for her to do something that doesn’t involve getting splattered by Deep One blood. She rushes it, feeling her fists flicker with her own power, and delivers a single blow to its center of mass.

There’s a horrible noise as the back of the Deep One explodes outwards, accompanied by a gout of magical flame. The smell is  _ terrible _ , but the Deep One is dead, and in a matter of seconds the fight is over. Wendy’s eyebrows jump up and she can’t help but be impressed by her own power. She throws a cocky look Dipper’s direction.

“Guess I kind of overdid it, huh?”

Dipper’s response is cut off by the clatter of metal on the ground as Threes drops the sword and scrambles backwards, looking shocked. He looks over, concerned. “Threes? Are you hurt?”

Threes’ breathing slows as they master themself. “Thy world’s effects wend stronger than awaited.” they say, and take another deep breath. “Waxes, our power does - and our memory as well. Much is revealed of our nature.”

Wendy gives Threes a long look. “Awful knowing?” 

“Aye, awful knowing.” Threes nods before continuing. “Yet knowing now we’d not trade such things away again, finds us.”

“Well,” Dipper says, not sure how to proceed, “we should probably get out of here. Maybe find a stream or something so you can clean up.”

Wendy is also not sure how to proceed, so she goes with teasing. “You tryin’ to get my shirt off Pines? You know we’ve got  _ company _ , right?”

Threes cackles, scoops their sword off the ground, and twirls it. “Such steel should be cleaned as well, we find, lest it rust.”

“Can magical swords rust?” Wendy asks. “Also,  _ where the fuck did you get a magical sword? _ ”

“Magic’s naught but flame and power, Wendy maid. Sword steel rusts still, if not properly cared for.” Threes responds, then adds, “An old artefact of a dead world, it is. Forgotten we carried it.”

“Carried it?”

“A trick old in nature,” Threes explains, still twirling the sword around delightedly. “Here now,” they toss the sword up in the air, catch it, and bring the blade up against their own arm, holding the hilt in a reverse-grip, “gone just as fast,” the sword has, indeed, vanished - only to reappear as Threes reaches with their other hand and draws it out from behind a tree, “and seen again.”

“That’s… pretty fucking cool, Threes.” Wendy says, and Threes seems delighted by it. 

“Yon young hexer can learn the same skill,” they say, “and ne’er unprepared again be.”

Dipper seems to like the idea, and peppers Threes with questions as they make their way back to the main trail (with a brief detour to find a stream). By the time they get back to the van, the sun has nearly set. Threes looks up at the stars that are just beginning to twinkle in the sky and sighs. 

“Our time is up, we fear.” they say. “Thy contract, Wendy maid, is fulfilled.”

Wendy’s brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, you’ve still got the trip back to the apartment.” 

“Nay, all summonings have a time limit - return’s automatic, and the return for us is sped along by thy land’s wardings.” Threes steps in close to Wendy. “A final gift, have we for thee, Wendy maid. Thy young hexer should have it also - tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Wendy asks, but then Threes takes Wendy’s head and rests their foreheads together, and 

_ Wendy sees the results, now. Pinwydd and Gwyndolin knew their world was doomed, so Pinwydd set out to take vengeance on the Void. A new thing - a twinned spirit, hidden deep and incorruptible by even Void’s dark. They lose the fight, but the spell goes off, and Gwyndolin and Pinwydd’s spirits - their fire - leaves their bodies and shoots into the sky. _

_ The Void snares the twinned flame, twists it into a new thing, a creature to be its new spearhead, to command its legions and bring the Void to all creation. Three times over, the creature does as commanded - mindless, fearsome, wielder of terrible power. They are given a name after the third realm falls, after an eons-long campaign. _

_ But the revenge Pinwydd and Gwyndolin seek is there, long-gestating. In the ruined skies of the fourth realm, the spirit flares to life, sees what the Void is doing, and declares it a Wrong Thing to be stopped. A rebellion ensues, and The Dark Consumes Creation Three Times Over halts the Void’s advance, and remains Threes rather than Four.  _

Wendy steps back, and she knows she’s crying. “You… you’re…”

“One of many possibilities, Wendy maid,” Threes says, smiling gently, “One of many possible outcomes and offspring. We’ll see thee again, but stay in thy own realm a while, if tha please. Thou’ve work to do.”

Then there’s a flash, and Threes is gone - back to continue their vigil, to guard against the Void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we go. Took me long enough to finish this little trip of theirs off, but hey I've been reading the more eldritch horror adjacent lore in Destiny 2 (look, the game is fun by itself but dear GOD the lore is well-written), and I remembered I hadn't played the DLC for Control, and I also started re-watching Gravity Falls so... this was inevitable. 
> 
> Anyway, that's a wrap on Threes - well, for the moment. They'll show up again, because I love them, and also because Dipper and Wendy both have skills to learn. The next part (whenever it shows up) will be going elsewhere - there's some dangling threads to clean up, and a few other ideas I want to play around with, and anyway Threes has been shirking their guardian duties a little. 
> 
> Hope you liked that little arc! I sure liked figuring out who Threes was, and hopefully you did too. It's kind of late, and I have work in the morning, so we'll leave it there. Thanks for reading and commenting! I'll see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Dang, this thing has gotten out of hand, hasn't it? Like, it's got _significantly_ more going on in it than I expected, and I'm thrilled it's found a niche, such as it is, in this little corner of the internet. I'll keep going as long as y'all keep commenting and kudos-ing and, in the absence of those things, I'll keep going anyway whenever I get a new idea.
> 
> I have _several_ new ideas.


End file.
